When the Past Encroaches on the Present
by stickdonkey
Summary: As Bilbo's 111th birthday draws near, he longs for the love he lost sixty years ago and is surprised when a knock at the door turns out to be someone entirely unexpected. Will Thorin's unexpected return rekindle old flames that never truly went out or will it open old wounds that have never truly closed? AU R&R written by request of animefanreader402
1. Chapter 1

Bilbo sighed and placed his head in his hands as he sat at his table. He was so tired of this party business. It had seemed like a good idea when he had planned it with Gandalf, but now that he had to put it into practice . . . he wished that he would have just slipped off into the darkness without a send-off. Frodo would have understood and the rest of them . . . Bilbo couldn't care less what they thought about him. They had thought that he was strange ever since he had gone on an adventure sixty years ago. No. Their opinions didn't matter to him.

It seemed that very little mattered to him anymore. Not since . . . he couldn't even bring himself to think it. Even if he couldn't think it, that didn't mean that it hadn't affected him. It had. It had taken away his ability to love. He was fond of Frodo, that was true, but ever since that day his heart was not his own. It was buried in the Lonely Mountain with the man he loved. He could still remember the day he had left his heart there.

Bilbo had been standing in the tomb surrounded by Dwarves that kept casting sidelong looks at him. Normally he would have cared that so many people did not want him around, but he was so struck by his grief that their hostility went unnoticed by him. Thorin, Fíli and Kíli were lying in stone boxes and if Bilbo hadn't have know better he would have thought they were asleep. They looked almost peaceful in death.

He had clinched his fists as Dwalin and another large dwarf that he hadn't gotten the name of had covered Fíli and Kíli's tombs, but when they had move to do the same to Thorin's Bilbo hadn't been able to stop himself.

"Wait," he had croaked out tears streaming down his face. He had been surprised that he still had tears to shed after the last few days. Dwalin and the rest of the company had looked at him with something akin to pity, while the other dwarves had rolled their eyes at the interruption. Balin had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It is time, Bilbo," he had said gently. "You have to let him rest in peace."

"But it will be dark there," Bilbo had said focusing on the more trivial objections to a burial.

"Aye, that it will," Balin agreed. "But it must be done." With that, he had nodded to his brother to finish the unpleasant task. Attempting to ignore the sobs of the hobbit that were now filling the air, Dwalin guided the lid over the tomb and placed it carefully home. There was some muttering in the hall about the unbecoming behavior the hobbit was exhibiting by mourning so publically but it was silenced with a glare from Dain and the remaining members of Throin's company. Bofur had led him away to a room and sat with him until Bilbo had fallen asleep.

The next day, he had taken his little chest of treasure from his fourteenth of the gold in the mountain and had left. Even though he had missed the others terribly, he had never gone back. There were too many sad memories there for him to visit. And they occasionally came to see him, most looking just as they had the first time he had seen them. Every time they did, some part of him hoped that the past would repeat itself and his home would be filled with thirteen dwarves who would raid his pantry and convince him to follow them on a fool's errand. But it never happened. And the one dwarf he wanted to see most in the world never came. Every time the bell rang, even though he knew it was impossible, he halfway hoped that it would be Thorin on the other side of the door . . . but, of course, it never was.

Almost as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, the bell rang. Bilbo sighed and wondered for a moment if he should simply pretend that he was not home. He was not in the mood for visitors, or for attending to party business for that matter. When there was another, more insistent ring at the bell followed shortly by a hard rapping at the door, Bilbo realized that whoever was there would not be discouraged easily and the continual sound of their insistence to be let in would irritate him more than the brief time it would take for him to figure out what they wanted and send them on their way.

With an exasperated sigh, Bilbo stood and walked to the door, mumbling to himself about foolish people that would not accept silence as an answer. Just as he reached the door, the knocking began again, louder than before even taking into account the fact that he was now closer.

"What do you want?" Bilbo snapped as he was pulling the door open. He knew that it was not the polite way to answer a door, but he had quit caring about that some time ago. He heard an amused laugh and looked up a bit to see the smiling face of Thorin Oakenshield.

"Still opening the door like a pop-gun, are you Bilbo?" The dwarf asked his tone light. Bilbo closed his eyes at the sound of his voice. It was a sound that he had never hoped to hear again and it filled him with warmth and brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to close the door. He knew that it was impossible. He was hallucinating from the stress of party planning and his wistful mind had summoned the image of Thorin to be his hallucination.

"May I come in?" Thorin asked, seeing the shock on the face of the other. "Or do you intend to keep me on your doorstep all day?" Bilbo stepped aside to allow the dwarf to pass, unsure if he could give voice to the invitation. He still expected Thorin to disappear at any moment. What he wasn't prepared for was the warmth of the other's body ghosting across the space between them or the way that the smell that was distinctly Thorin filled the air in the entry to his hobbit hole.

"It has been a while, my friend," Thorin said gently placing a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. At the feeling of Thorin's solid hand on his shoulder, Bilbo felt the world grow dark as the floor rose up suddenly to meet him.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**I'm sorry! I know that I shouldn't be starting new stories when I still have three that are incomplete but I couldn't resist. This was written at the request of animefanreader 402 and was such a good idea that I could not pass it up. I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter. There will be more to come. And don't worry. Everything will still get updated in a timely manner. **

**Stickdonkeys**


	2. Chapter 2

Thorin smiled gently as he looked at the hobbit on the floor. Even though he looked nearly the same as he had before they had traveled together, Thorin hadn't expected the same response. He had thought that Bilbo was beyond fainting in the hall, but he didn't suppose that he could blame him. He had just knelt to lift the hobbit and move him to his bed to allow him to wake on his own when the sound of running footsteps reached his ears.

"You'll never guess what I just saw," he heard the excited voice of a young man call as the distinct sound of hobbit feet on the stone steps outside accompanied him. Thorin felt his heart constrict in his chest. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since Erebor had been reclaimed, but he supposed that it made sense that Bilbo had moved on and acquired a family.

"Uncle Bilbo!"Frodo cried at the sight of his uncle on the ground with a large dwarf leaning over him. He knew that Bilbo often entertained dwarves, but he had never found him like this before. And he had never seen this particular dwarf.

"Who are you? What happened here?" Frodo demanded. Like Bilbo, he knew that it was rude to demand answers like that, but he also couldn't care less. The dwarf was in his home and Bilbo was not able to make proper introductions.

Despite himself, Thorin smiled. The young hobbit had called Bilbo "Uncle" not "Father." He was his nephew. Composing himself he stood and faced the newest addition fully.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he replied with a shallow bow, "At your service." He was a little hurt when the hobbit showed no sign of recognition at his name. Had Bilbo never spoken of him? "As to what happened," he continued. "Your uncle was a bit surprised to see me and fainted. This is not the first time he has had this reaction. He will be fine shortly."

"Uncle Bilbo fainted?" Frodo asked incredulously. He had known his uncle his entire life and not once had he seen the older hobbit faint. Not even when Frodo had leapt out of the woods at him in an attempt to startle him. All that had happened that time was Frodo getting walloped with the walking stick Bilbo carried.

"Yes, Master . . ." Thorin gestured with his hand for the hobbit to supply his name. He disliked being at the disadvantage of not knowing with whom he was speaking.

"Frodo," the hobbit supplied. "Frodo Baggins."

"Master Frodo," Thorin said with a nod. "Yes, your uncle did faint. If you will aid me, I believe that we should move him to somewhere more comfortable than the floor to recover himself." Frodo nodded warily. Even though the dwarf had asked for help, all he had really meant was for Frodo to open Bilbo's door. Though the hobbit had grown more stout than he had been when they had first met, he had remained slighter than most hobbits and Thorin could easily lift him.

Once they had him tucked back into bed, Frodo turned anxiously to the dwarf. "Um," he said rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and fingering his suspenders with the other. "I'm not very good at this. Uncle usually takes care of entertaining guests. Would you like something to eat? Maybe some tea?"

"I would greatly appreciate food," Thorin said smiling gently down on the flustered hobbit. Even if he wasn't Bilbo's son, they were very similar. Or maybe being easily flustered was a hobbit trait and not singular to Bilbo.

"However, I would rather have something a bit stronger than tea, if that is all right," Thorin continued. "It has already been a difficult day and I do not foresee it becoming easier before it is through."

"We have ale," Frodo offered with a sigh before leading the dwarf to Bilbo's kitchen. Thorin followed him, surprised by how little Bilbo's home had changed over the years—much like the hobbit himself.

"So," Thorin said trying to find something to talk about rather than allow them to sit in the uncomfortable silence that surrounded them, "you are Bilbo's nephew? I was unaware that he had siblings."

"He doesn't," Frodo explained also glad for a topic. "I am actually his cousin. My father was his second cousin on his father's side and my mother was his first cousin on his mother's side. So I am his first and second cousin once removed either way."

Thorin closed his eyes trying to wrap his head around what he had just been told. Hobbit genealogies were _nearly_ as confusing as dwarven ones and the terms they used were more confusing. "Then why do you call him "Uncle"?" Thorin asked, focusing on something that should be easier to answer.

With a smile and a shrug that was reminiscent of Bilbo when Thorin had asked him a question that he thought was unneeded, Frodo said, "Because he is so much older than I am. I can't just go around calling him "Cousin Bilbo", can I?" Thorin shook his head and looked at the tankard of ale in front of him with a sigh before he downed the whole thing in one go. This was going to be a very difficult day indeed.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Bilbo groaned as he stretched feeling slightly surprised at the soft mattress under him. The last thing he remembered, he had fainted in the front hall. He shook his head sadly as he admonished himself for being surprised. Of course he was in bed. It had to have been a dream. Thorin was dead and nothing was going to change that. He was not going to be walking up to the door of Bag End and demanding entry. That was absurd.

As was falling asleep in one's day clothes. Bilbo sighed as he saw what he was wearing in bed. He was old but he was not _that_ old. He should have known better than to crawl into bed fully clothed! Well, there was nothing to be done for it now except to get up and resume the business of planning that blasted party.

He wondered at the soreness of his shoulder as he grasped the handle of his door and made a mental note to talk to someone about getting a new mattress in as that one was obviously inadequate before he remembered that soon it would not matter. He would be gone. He sighed again as he heard Frodo's voice in the kitchen. He sincerely hoped that he was talking either to himself or the Gamgee boy, he really was not feeling up to visitors today.

"Frodo, my lad," Bilbo called, feeling that it would be best to announce his presence than to walk in on what might be a private conversation. "You will never believe the dream I had. . ." Bilbo trailed off as he rounded the corner and saw the back of whomever was in the kitchen with Frodo.

"I must still be asleep," he mumbled as he looked at the same back that he had followed across Middle Earth. He would know it anywhere. But there was no way that Thorin could be sitting in his kitchen. He felt light headed once more.

"Now, Bilbo, no more of that," Thorin barked. The familiar tone grounded Bilbo and he managed to fight back the darkness, though he did have to sit down. "We will never get anywhere if you keep swooning at the sight of me."

"I do not swoon!" Bilbo snapped back his temper rising at the fact that his hallucination was making fun of him.

"It looked like a swoon to me," Thorin teased glad that Bilbo was showing a bit of the fire he had come to love about him. He had been worried that time had extinguished it. "I know that my presence is overwhelming, however—"

"It was _not_ a swoon," Bilbo said rising to approach the dwarf stopping when he was within inches of the other. Even if he was a hallucination his words still angered the hobbit. "I swear, Thorin Oakenshield, you are the most conceited dwarf I have ever met in my life! And _that_ is saying something. I don't care if you _are_ a king, a little humility would do you some good!"

"He's a king?" Frodo asked dropping the roll he had been buttering. He was shocked. He knew that Bilbo knew many important people, but a king? And sitting at their little table in Bag End drinking ale and chatting with him? He paled even more as he realized what he had first said to the king. He had been so rude!

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Frodo said standing to bow to the dwarf at the table. "I apologize for my rudeness at our meeting."

"Oh," Bilbo shushed gesturing at his nephew impatiently. "I doubt you could have said anything too bad. Dwarven manners are different that hobbit manners."

"Much less difficult to remember," Thorin muttered, his eyes twinkling as he rehashed an old argument between him and the ex-burglar. "You just have to show deference to the right people. None of this foolishness about which fork to eat what dish with."

"Table manners are not foolish!" Bilbo retorted though Thorin ignored him and turned to Frodo instead.

"And do not worry, Frodo," he said with a sad smile. "I _was_ a king. But no more. I am simply a dwarf now."

"Did you abdicate?" Frodo asked. He couldn't see how you could have been a king but be one no longer. Also he could not see the dwarf in front of him abdicating a throne.

"Something like that," Thorin replied his eyes taking a haunted look as he remembered his own death. "But it is no matter now. The throne had passed to the next in line and I am free to live out the remainder of my life as I will."

"What remainder of your life?" Bilbo demanded, tears in his eyes. "You didn't abdicate. You died. I saw them bury you! I mourned you! How . . . how are you here? I held you as you died. I saw your body. How? And if you were alive all this time why did you never come to see me? Sixty years, Thorin. It's been _sixty_ years."

Bilbo paused before he continued, his voice now choked with emotion, "Does Dís know? What about the rest of them? Did everyone but _me _know that you are still alive? I suppose that would make sense. Why should we tell _the hobbit_ that the great Thorin Oakenshield is still alive? He wouldn't care anyway."

"Now Bilbo," Thorin began his eyes begging the enraged hobbit to understand, "that is _not_ what happened. I would _never_ have done that to you. I know this is hard to believe—"

"No?!" Bilbo spat sarcastically. "It's perfectly easy to believe. Dead dwarves come back to life and sit in my kitchen every day! I had lunch with Fíli just yesterday."

"Enough!" Thorin roared at the reminder of his own nephew's death on his foolish quest. He may as well have killed the boy himself. At his anger, Bilbo sobered a bit, though he still glared at the dwarf he had ceased speaking. "Enough. If you will just _listen_ I will try to explain what has happened. Do you think I like this situation? I died. And led others to their death in the process. I have _not_ been in hiding. No one else knows that I live. How could I go to my sister after I led both her sons to their deaths? Of course Dís doesn't know."

He paused to shake his head and regain his composure before he continued. The thought of his sister and her loss through his actions almost brought him to tears. No matter what he and Bilbo had shared, dwarves did not mourn in public, not as he wished to anyway.

"Use your brain, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said sadly. "If I was _still_ alive without having died in the middle, I would be 255 years old. I would most likely be dead from old age. Do I look changed?"

Bilbo started at his words and looked more closely at the dwarf. He had not thought it odd initially that Thorin looked just as Bilbo remembered him, but when Thorin did the math for him, it made no sense. There was no more grey in his hair than there had been the last time he had seen him, no more lines on his face. He was the same.

"How?" Bilbo asked once more.

"The valar have granted us another chance," Thorin said. "I think they were amused by the fact that a dwarf loved a hobbit and that a hobbit would mourn a dwarf for sixty years and wanted to see what would happen if we were placed together once more. I do not care for their reasons. They gave me the choice and I took it."

"The valar gave you new life?" Bilbo asked skeptically. He had never heard of them doing anything like that before. The only thing that came close was their granting Elrond and Elros the ability to choose their own destinies. But he hadn't heard of them intervening in the lives of ordinary mortals and their last interference at all had been Ages ago. This was beyond the pale and he again decided that he must be dreaming.

"Not exactly," Thorin replied glad that Bilbo had stopped yelling for now. "They actually transported my consciousness through time and returned it to the body I had just before my death. I will be permitted to live out the lifespan that I should have had if I had not died."

"Frodo, be a good lad and fetch me an ale in the largest glass you can find," Bilbo said wearily, sitting next to Thorin and holding his head in his hands. "This makes no sense, you know?" Bilbo said glancing at Thorin out of the corner of his eye.

The dwarf sighed. "I know," he replied before he cast a wan smile at the hobbit. "But if we now have a chance to be happy should we question it?" Bilbo shook his head and rubbed at a worn spot on the table.

"And to think," he said with a small tentative smile, "just this morning I was worried about organizing a party."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter out in a timely manner. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you think (even if you hated it).**

**I would also like to say thank you to everyone who has read, or added this story to their favorites or alerts.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**As always thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think.**

**Leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination,**

**Stickdonkeys **


	3. Chapter 3

Frodo sighed as he walked into the pantry with two large glasses. He didn't usually like to drink ale, but he was so confused that he decided to make an exception. He had _never_ seen his uncle speak to _anyone_ like he had just spoken to the dwarf in their kitchen. He had seemed so hurt and angry with him. It made no sense, it's not like the dwarf could control the fact that he had died, right?

And the dwarf himself. Had he really been a king? It made no sense to Frodo—not that anything that had happened that day _did—_that _royalty_ would allow someone to rage at him like that, even ex-royalty. It, more so than anything else he had heard, made Frodo think that there was more going on between them than Frodo knew. It hurt a bit to know that someone who was important enough to his uncle to make him _faint_ and lose his temper like he had was someone whose name Frodo had never even heard. Who was Thorin Oakenshield and what was between him and Bilbo?

It was this question, rather than the one about exactly _how_ someone manages to come back from the dead, that rolled around in the mind of young Frodo. Perhaps because it was the one that he could find an answer to with a little bit of snooping while the other was impossible for him to solve. There was only one thing that Frodo was sure of: there was more between them than simple friendship. How much more was yet to be seen. If they both survived, that is. He could hear raised voices from the kitchen once more.

With a sigh, he finished filling the glasses and returned to the middle of the feud that he had no business in as it did not concern him.

**ooOO88OOoo**

"He seems like a nice lad," Thorin said once Frodo had left the room.

"He is," Bilbo said smiling fondly. "And an intelligent one. Has a good head for languages and maps."

"When I first saw him, I thought . . . well, I _assumed . . . "_

"That he was my son?" Bilbo supplied when it became apparent that Thorin would not say it. "No. I care deeply for the lad, but he is not mine. I never . . . "

"It would have made sense if you did," Thorin said placing his hand on the hobbit's a sad smile on his face. He hated the idea that Bilbo had spent his life alone because of him. "I was dead. You could have moved on. You _should_ have moved on. I halfway expected that you had."

"No," Bilbo snapped withdrawing his hand and glaring at Thorin once more. "I could not! Do you have any idea how much you hurt me?"

"Bilbo," Thorin said gently. He hadn't expected Bilbo to be so angry with him about the past. He knew that he had made mistakes, but he hadn't figured the hobbit to be the kind to hold a grudge, not against the dead and not for sixty years. "I couldn't stop myself from dying. If I could have—"

"That's not what I am talking about!" Bilbo yelled pushing away from the table to begin pacing the room. "That did hurt. And it hurt for a long time. It still hurts even though you are back. But that was _not_ what I was talking about." Bilbo snorted angrily before he turned to face the dwarf with tears in his eyes once more.

"You . . . you tried to _kill_ me," he finally managed to say. "Do you realize how much that hurt me?"

Thorin clinched his hands at the reminder of what he had almost done to the hobbit in his rage at realizing Bilbo had taken the Arkenstone and given it to the elves. He had regretted it instantly, but hadn't been able to apologize at the time, not if he wanted to appear strong in front of his kin and his enemies.

"You forgave me for that," Thorin reminded the hobbit. He could still remember the hobbit sitting by his side as he died and trying to cheer him up as the end drew closer. He had never mentioned the affair with the Arkenstone in all that time and Thorin had assumed that he was forgiven.

"You were dying!" Bilbo reminded him in return, his voice high and shrill. "What was I supposed to do? Tell you that I didn't care if you were sorry? That it didn't matter if you didn't really mean to do it? Of _course _I told you it was forgotten."

"Would it help if I apologized?" Thorin asked looking at the hobbit sadly. He hated that his stupidity and greed had not only lost him Bilbo's company in the final days before the battle, but might have lost him his affection for ever.

"It wouldn't hurt," Bilbo snapped crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from the sorrow in Thorin's blue eyes. He was angry with him and did not want to see the hurt that his anger was causing. All the feelings of resentment that had built up over sixty years were boiling over in one fell swoop and Bilbo did not want to be stopped now by pity.

Thorin nodded and stood. He slowly walked towards the hobbit and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. "Bilbo Baggins," he said, emotion causing his voice to quiver as he looked at the face of the other. "I once told you that I had never been more wrong about anything in my life when I misjudged you. I was wrong about that. If there was one thing that I could take back . . . just one, it would be when I let my anger and the gold madness take me. I should _never_ have done that to you. Even though I know that no amount of apologizing can make up for it, I will apologize to you for it every day until the day I die if it would help. I am so sorry. I can't even begin to tell you how much that action grieved me."

He pulled Bilbo against him and leaned down to place his nose in his curly hair. "I was a fool," he continued his voice little more than a whisper. "An arrogant fool. Can you ever forgive me?" At his last words a small sob escaped Bilbo and his arms wrapped around the dwarf and grasped at him as though he was the last precipice that could keep him from falling into despair. He had _ached_ to hear those words for so long and to hear them now . . . he couldn't help by cry.

He wept as he had not wept since he had lost Thorin the first time. Only this time Thorin was there to hold him. His warm scent filled Bilbo's nose as he pressed his face into the chest of his long-lost lover. Oh, how he had missed that smell! Now that he was back, Bilbo did not intend to let old mistakes come between them.

"Of course I can forgive you," Bilbo sobbed pulling back enough to look at the relieved face of the king—because to Bilbo he would never be anything else. "But if you _ever_ attempt anything like that again . . ." Bilbo let the threat trail off. He wasn't entirely sure what he could do to Thorin if it came down to it, but he would think of something.

"I would _never_ dream of it," Thorin replied before he leaned down, gauging Bilbo's response as he did so, and prepared to kiss him. At the sound of crockery breaking on the floor the two jumped apart to find Frodo standing there with his mouth hanging open.

He was in shock. What had he just walked in on? He knew that there was something between them, but this!? Had they been about to kiss? Did that mean that his uncle and the king . . . well it did explain some things, but h . . . Hobbits didn't do _that_ kind of thing. _Especially _not with dwarves.

"What is going on here?" Frodo managed to ask eventually. "Are the two of you . . . "

Bilbo sighed and gave Thorin a look that said "well, he's going to find out eventually." Bilbo chewed his lip as he tried to figure out how to explain things to Frodo. He knew that it was going to be a shock to the poor lad. Good gentlehobbits just didn't do these kinds of things but Bilbo had stopped being a gentlehobbit when he had left to go questing.

"I know that you must be confused," Bilbo said gently. Frodo snorted in response. Confused did not even _begin_ to cover the depth of his feelings on the day so far. "But there is a perfectly good explanation for this."

"Is this why you adopted me?" Frodo demanded suddenly, despite his confusion, so many things now made sense. "Why you never married or had children of your own? You couldn't because you were still in love with him."

"Yes," Bilbo replied sadly. He hoped that knowing the truth would not change the way that Frodo felt about him. He had grown rather attached to the lad and hated the idea that Frodo would no longer want to be his heir.

"I-I suppose that I understand," Frodo said with a small smile. It made Bilbo's life make so much more sense. And he now knew why he had never heard of Thorin, though he had listened to Bilbo's tale hundreds of times. And why Bilbo had always seemed so sad and reclusive. He had always assumed that it was because Bilbo had outgrown the Shire but had wondered why he had never left if that was the case. But this . . . strange as it was, it made more sense.

"You do?" Bilbo asked. This was not at all what he had been expecting and he was suddenly glad that he had raised Frodo to be accepting of the cultures of others, including dwarves, rather than just the mores of hobbits.

"Yes," Frodo replied with a cheeky smile at Thorin. "He is rather well groomed for a dwarf." At his words, Thorin laughed. Even he had to admit that his kin were not always the cleanest bunch around.

Bilbo just smiled in relief. "Come," he said effectively changing the subject. "Let's get this mess cleaned up and sit for a meal. I'm feeling a bit peckish."

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time the mess was cleared up and they had finished eating, darkness was beginning to fall. The three of them were sitting around Bilbo's table and talking of light matters, that did not have to do with Bilbo and Thorin's _personal_ lives but did occasionally have to do with their old memories of each other, when there was a knock at the door.

Bilbo stood in confusion. He wasn't expecting guests to his knowledge and it was far too late for it to be party business. He glanced out the window to see the front door and felt shock flood his veins.

"Um, Thorin?" Bilbo asked suddenly as he looked out his window. "Do you intend to let the others know that you're alive?"

"I hadn't thought about it?" Thorin replied. "Why?"

"Because they're here. Well some of them are anyway," Bilbo explained nervously. "They're going to be staying here for a while for my birthday. In all the excitement I forgot that they were supposed to be arriving tonight. If you do not want them to know, you will need to hide."

"How long is a while?" Thorin asked warily. He disliked the idea of hiding from his kin, but he almost couldn't stand the thought of facing them after so long. If it was only going to be for a short time, he would do it until he decided what he wanted to do in the long run.

"A few weeks," Bilbo replied. "My birthday is not until the twenty-second." Thorin rolled his eyes at the old hobbit's tone. He hadn't forgotten when Bilbo's birthday was. In fact he still remembered the one they had celebrated together fondly. No, he knew when Bilbo's birthday was, he just didn't know what the current date was.

"I cannot hide in your home for a few weeks!" Thorin snapped as Bilbo's words sank in.

"Then, I suppose you should prepare yourself to see them," Bilbo replied as he walked to the door. "I have kept them on the stoop long enough." Thorin sighed. He had been right about the day being a difficult one. And no amount of ale in the world could make up for what was about to happen.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are, a new chapter out! I can't promise that updates will continue on an every 2 days schedule, but for now they are. **

**I would like to say thank you to everyone who has read this story or added it to their favorites or alerts. I wasn't sure how this would go over and am glad that you are enjoying it.**

**And a special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**That's all for now. As always, thank you for taking the time to read this chapter and leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination. **

**Stickdonkeys.**


	4. Chapter 4

Thorin closed his eyes as he heard the door open and the hall fill with the sounds of welcome and of cloaks and baggage being shed. He would rather face a horde of rampaging orcs once more than face his kin. This was a meeting that he had meant to postpone not to have the same night. Even so, he stood and faced the entry, his back straight and proud as he tried to fight down his feelings of guilt and unease.

"Started the party without us, eh?" Bofur asked, his voice unchanged by time. Thorin smiled at the familiarity of it.

"No," Bilbo replied, sounding decidedly flustered, "but before you go in there I must tell you something."

"It is not a mess," Bofur replied, his voice closer than before. "I promise you. Even a mess by your standards is clean by ours."

"Wait!" Bilbo cried, appearing in the doorway with his arms wide as he attempted to bodily stop the dwarf from padding.

"We'll mind the rug, lad," Balin said with a pat to his shoulder.

"No!" Bilbo said attempting to grab the dwarf as Bofur walked around him. "you don't understand!"

"Don't worry," Bofur said as he dodged the grasping hand of the hobbit and walked around him. He didn't understand why the hobbit was so insistent that they remain in the entry. "We'll be careful of the an—"he stopped speaking abruptly as he caught sight of Throin.

"What is it, lad," Dwalin asked as he, too, shouldered around the now defeated hobbit. "Is it a—"

"What's the matter with you two?" Balin asked walking around Bilbo. "Surely it can't be that bad, can it?"

Had the situation been different, Thorin would have laughed at the expressions—or lacks-there-of—on the faces of his old companions. As it was, all he did was offer them a sad smile.

"Hello, my friends," he said slowly, trying to break the shocked moment that had continued entirely too long. He almost regretted it.

The next few moments were filled with chaos and the shouting of ideas and accusations—including that Bilbo had been conspiring with the Necromancer—and that if this was his idea of a joke it was a tasteless one. Everyone was talking all at once and no one could hear what anyone was actually saying over the din.

"Enough!" Thorin finally yelled when Bilbo's quieter attempts to silence the irate dwarves had gone unheeded. "Yes, I am alive. No, Bilbo had nothing to do with it. And this is not a cruel joke."

"Impossible," Balin breathed. The dwarf in front of him looked just like Thorin. He sounded just like Thorin, but it couldn't be him. He was dead. This had to be a ghost, or some kind of illusion. Almost of their own accord, his feet began to move him forward until he could feel the heat emanating from the body of the apparition. He slowly reached out a trembling hand and was surprise when it encountered solid flesh. He had halfway expected it to pass through.

"Thorin," he whispered, tears beginning to prickle his eyes at seeing his old friend alive again. In his excitement, he forgot that the dwarf in front of him was a king. He forgot protocol and pulled the larger dwarf into a hug—which Thorin returned with a laugh.

"It is good to see you again as well, Balin," Thorin said with a laugh.

"But how?" Bofur asked. Thorin looked at the dark-haired dwarf and felt a stab of pain in his chest. On the quest, he, Fíli and Kíli had worked together to provide humor—even when Thorin hadn't wanted it—and seeing him alone only emphasized their loss.

"That is a long, complicated tale," Bilbo said edging around the flabbergasted dwarves to return to his dining room. "I, for one, would like something to eat before we get into it again." At his words, Thorin had to smile. He had no idea hobbits ate so often. No wonder they tended to be so wide. Even so, he gladly followed Bilbo and the others into the dining room. If nothing else, it would give him time to collect his thoughts before he had to explain how he was back once more.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The supper dishes were still on the table even though hours had passed since the meal. The remnants of the meals were still on the plates, but no one seemed to care. They were still trying to absorb what Thorin had told them and what the other consequences the meddling of the Valar would cause in their world. Namely in the kingship of Erebor. Dáin was a good king and they had prospered under his reign, but with Thorin alive Erebor was rightly his. Would Dáin step down easily or would this cause a civil war once word got out that Thorin was alive?

"Will you be returning with us?" Balin finally asked. "I know that it would make the people happy to see you again. Dáin has been a good king but we will gladly follow you once more."

"No," Thorin said suddenly. When he had accepted the offer, he hadn't realized the repercussions his actions would have on the world and his people. That's not to say that he would not have taken the chance, but he would have thought through things more before he revealed himself.

"I had my chance at being the King Under the Mountain and I led many of us to disaster. The title has passed to Dáin and I will not retake it," Thorin said. "Besides, my line will end with me while Dáin has a son to pass the throne to."

"There is still time to produce an heir," Balin argued. "You are not so old as to be impotent."

"No," Thorin agreed with a laugh. "However I have a mate and will take no other even if he will not have me after the great injustices I have done him. Even if he will, there will be no heirs from our union. Our only chance at an heir would be Dís. But even were her husband still alive I would not ask it of her. I have already taken two sons from her and could not ask her to replace them."

"But," Bofur protested weakly. He understood what Thorin was saying, but the idea that their King would allow himself to remain crownless after they had gone on a quest and fought a dragon and four other armies for the crown was too difficult to grasp.

"No," Thorin repeated. "Dáin and his son will keep the throne of Erebor.

"What do you mean to do then?" Dwalin asked. "Retake your seat at Ered Luin? We will follow you there if that is your decision."

"No," Thorin replied beginning to become exasperated that they did not understand that he had no desire to rule anymore. The company, in turn, was becoming frustrated at his half answers. All he would tell them was what he did not intend to do, not what he would.

"I intend to stay in the Shire. With Bilbo, if he will have me," Thorin said steadily looking at the hobbit across the table. He had meant to ask in private rather than put him on the spot like this, but they were going to keep pestering him until he gave them an answer and he had been pestered enough for one night.

"What?" Bilbo asked flabbergasted. "Thorin . . . I . . . we . . . we will need to discuss this later. In private." Bilbo had been in such a shocked state since Thorin's return that he hadn't thought through the kinks that it put in his plans to leave the Shire. There was no way that Thorin would consent to live in Rivendell and they couldn't go to the Lonely Mountain without causing quite a fuss. Was their only option really to stay?

Bilbo's words hurt Thorin, but he said nothing. He supposed he had earned Bilbo's wariness. He understood—after everything that had happened, everything _he_ had done—why Bilbo would be reluctant for them to move in together. But just because he understood didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

"The Shire is nice," Balin agreed. "I suppose there is room here for a small dwarven settlement. At least hobbits have the sense to live below ground."

"What?" Bilbo gasped again. He loved his friends, but the rest of the shire would be up in arms if a contingent of dwarves moves into Hobbiton. They were anxious enough when the dwarves only came to visit. HE could only imagine their shock if they were to decide to _live_ there.

"Yes!" Bofur agreed. "There is a market here for dwarven toys. I could make a good living here."

"I . . . um . . . um," Bilbo stuttered as he tried to find a way to explain to the dwarves that moving to the Shire was not a good idea without offending them. Especially since he still wanted to leave it himself and if Thorin's friends moved here that would become impossible

"Yes," Balin agreed. "There is definitely a market for dwarven skills here. We could rebuild that bridge properly and open a forge. Yes. We could live well here. I believe that we could persuade Ori, Nori, and Dori to come."

"Bombur would come," Bofur said. "He would love to spend time among people that love to eat as much as he does. He would like living here. "

"Óin and Glóin will not," Dwalin said. "They have lives in Erebor and will not gladly leave them. But I and my wife and children will gladly come. I have grown tired of the bustle of Erebor and I think my wife misses the quieter life we had in Ered Luin. She will appreciate the slower pace of life here."

"Wait!" Bilbo finally managed to say as he did the math and realized that they were talking about at least eleven dwarves—he wasn't entirely sure how many children Dwalin had—coming to live in the Shire. "I have not decided what Thorin and I are going to do yet. Can we hold off on bringing everyone here until I have?"

"Ah," Balin scoffed. "Laddie, we already know that you are going to let him move in. You just want to "think it over" and bluster about a bit before you do. We're simply bypassing the wait and moving on to the next step." Bilbo could think of no reply. He didn't want to deny that he would let Thorin move in, but he wasn't sure _he_ was going to stay yet, let alone the rest of them. In the end, Bilbo said nothing. He merely sighed and looked longingly into the fire and once again wished for the morning when all he had to worry about was how to keep Lobella from stealing his silver if she decided to come to his party.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**A new chapter up and running! I hope you enjoyed it! **

**As always, thank you to everyone who has read this story or added it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**That's all for now, folks. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I would appreciate it if you will leave me a review if you have the time and/or feel inclined to do so.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	5. Chapter 5

The dwarves sat around the table into the grey hours of dawn planning where they would place their new settlement and other little details like how they should build it, how it should be laid out and how many dwarves it would hold. While they were doing this, Frodo was listening with rapt attention. He couldn't believe that _dwarves _were going to be coming to live in the Shire. What he was having a harder time understanding was how his _uncle_ had become the lover of their leader.

For some reason, the fact that Bilbo was in love with a dwarf was less difficult for him to understand than the fact that the dwarf—who was royalty and had the loyalty of the others—loved him back. Not that he didn't think his uncle was a wonderful hobbit, but he couldn't understand why a _king_ would be interested in a hobbit that way. But it was clear that he was, and the other dwarves did not seem to find anything odd about the situation so this must have been going on during their quest as well. _Then again_, he thought glancing at his uncle, _the dwarves didn't seem to be particularly observant_.

Poor Bilbo was practically seething at this point. He had had more than enough pushy dwarves sitting in his kitchen making plans that involved him again without asking. He had let them get away with it sixty years ago, but not this time. They were not going to pull him into their crazy scheme again. And even thought he could see that they were excited by the prospect of starting a new civilization, it was a crazy scheme. There was no way that the hobbits would welcome the dwarves, and the dwarves would not be happy being ostracized and Bilbo knew that he would once again be stuck in the middle of the troubles caused by pigheaded dwarves trying to interact with other races.

Even if most of the dwarves in the room were oblivious to the deteriorating mood of Bilbo, Thorin was not. He could see it in the way the hobbit swallowed harder and more frequently and in the way his jaw clinched even though there was nothing for him to chew. His anger was even present in the way he was blowing smoke rings.

"I think we have discussed this enough for one night," Thorin said attempting to end the conversation diplomatically before anyone said something they would come to regret. "It is late, or should I say early. We should all rest and resume the planning after we have slept on it."

"Oh we know that you intend to sleep on _something_," Dwalin said with a lewd grin that caused Bilbo to cough on his smoke and Frodo to blush to the roots of his hair. Frodo was astounded that the dwarf would say something like that. Hobbits did not talk about such matters, even though everyone knew that they happened or else there would be no hobbitlings, but it was not discussed. And for it to be said about his uncle . . . Frodo was sure that he would have nightmares that night, or maybe for the rest of his life.

"Perhaps," Thorin answered smoothly with an arrogant smile for Dwalin, "however what happens between Mr. Baggins and myself is none of your business. If you intend to live around hobbits you may want to learn a bit more about them," he finished with a gesture at the still red Frodo. "They tend to be very private folk."

"Oh!" Bofur joined in. "So he's Mr. Baggins now, is he? And how do you know so much about hobbits anyway?" In reply, Thorin only smiled once more before ignoring Bofur's questions and standing before offering Frodo a bow.

"I apologize for their lack of manners," Thorin said with a wry smile at his kin. "They were raised in caves." Frodo still couldn't seem to find his voice and merely nodded to show that he understood. While he and Thorin both listening to the protests of the rest of the dwarves and saying nothing. Even if they _did_ occasionally say scandalous things, most of the time they were quite entertaining and Frodo found himself smiling at their insistence that they were not raised in mere caves any more than hobbits were raised in mere holes.

"If the idea of a hole bothers you so," Bilbo cut in ending the discussion, "you are welcome to sleep in the garden. And at this rate you may have to. If anyone else decides to drop in unexpectedly I will have no where to put you all."

"We can kip in front of the fire," Balin offered hearing the edge in Bilbo's voice and knowing that his brother may have gone too far. "We still have our traveling supplies in the entry. Won't be the worst place we have slept by far."

"No," Bilbo said with a smile remembering all the times they had slept in the rain when they could find no shelter. "At least it will be dry."

"And warm," Bofur added returning Bilbo's smile with one of his own. "And with no risk of goblins."

"No. No goblins in the Shire," Bilbo agreed. "If you are sure that will be acceptable, I will leave you to it and take myself to bed."

"Aye," Dwalin answered. "It'll do. At least we are only trying to find places for three rather than thirteen this time."

"Three?" Frodo asked speaking for the first time since the rest of the dwarves had arrived. "But there are . . . oh." He trailed off as he realized what the dwarf had meant. He hadn't thought about it but he supposed that it made sense that Thorin and his uncle would sleep in the same room.

Thorin and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably as well. They knew that it only made sense that they would want to get reacquainted after so long, but there was still much that they needed to discuss and neither was sure exactly where their relationship _was_ at the moment. While it was true that they had almost kissed, there were still deep issues that needed to be sorted out before they were ready for that and they both knew it.

"I can sleep out here with the others," Thorin said quietly into Bilbo's ear. "If that is what you wish." Even though he wanted nothing more than to have the hobbit pressed up against him in sleep as they had so many times before, he knew that things had changed between them. The choices he had made, all the mistakes . . . they had changed things. He wasn't sure if things could ever go back to how they were before he betrayed Bilbo's trust. He realized that he may have been brought back not as a gift but as a punishment for his mistakes. He may be doomed to watch the one he loved from a distance but never to feel his touch again. He laughed bitterly to himself as he realized that even that would be better than he deserved for all the pain he had caused those he loved. Dís, Bilbo. Both of them had suffered directly because of him.

Bilbo thought about it carefully. He did not want Thorin to sleep anywhere but in his bed. He craved the feeling of the larger body in his bed. He had longed for it for sixty years, sometimes so intensely that he could almost _feel_ him there even though he knew that it could not be true. He knew that they still had issues they needed to work out before they could pick up where they left off, but he could not see the harm in letting Thorin share his bed as they had before they consummated their feelings. But perhaps Thorin did not want to sleep with him. Perhaps the years had changed him too much from the Bilbo that Thorin had known for him to harbor the same feelings for him that he once had.

"If you think that is best," Bilbo replied, equally as quiet. "I would not force you to do so. You are welcome to come with me." Thorin nodded and decided that he would follow the hobbit. Even if it was only for that one night, it would be better than nothing. Without saying a word to the dwarves or Frodo, the two of them walked out of the room. They could feel the eyes of the others on their backs but did not acknowledge them.

Even though no one left in the room said anything, they were all thinking the same thing. The two of them would come out of that room the next day reunited, or one of them would not come out at all. Regardless of what they had said, sleep was not going to be had that night.

"You may want to sleep in here with us, lad," Balin said to Frodo. "Either way this goes, you won't be getting much sleep beside their room tonight." Frodo flushed again at the implications, but in the end took the dwarf's advice and brought his blankets into the dining room and slept on the floor with the dwarves.

**ooOO88OOoo**

"I can't believe them!" Bilbo hissed as he closed the door to his room behind them.

"I am sorry," Thorin said even though he had done nothing wrong. He knew that he was still on thin ice with the hobbit and figured that he should be a courteous as possible. "They should have known better than to say something like that in front of your nephew. I will have a talk with them in the morning."

"What?" Bilbo asked sharply looking up at Thorin. "Oh! That. I wasn't talking about that."

"Then what?" Thorin asked. He couldn't think of what else they had said that could have infuriated the hobbit so.

"I can't believe that they plan to move to the Shire," Bilbo said. "And without so much as a "by your leave." Do they realize how many problems this will cause? And how many of them _I_ will be forced to fix. The rest of the hobbits will say nothing to you folk, but to me . . . Oh! I will be hearing of it forever."

"I do not think it is such a bad idea," Thorin offered quietly. He knew that it was probably not the smartest thing that he had ever done, but he did feel that Bilbo was being a bit unreasonable and felt that he should offer a bit of sense. "There truly is a market for our skills here. We are capable of things with iron and stone that you cannot even imagine."

"That's not the point, Thorin," Bilbo said exasperatedly. "Do you _really _want to go back to being a blacksmith? I can't even remember how many times you complained to me of the time you had spent working at forges during your exile. Would you willingly go back to that?"

"Yes," Thorin replied moving towards the hobbit and placing his hands on Bilbo's shoulders. "I would. Especially since it will allow me to stay with you. The circumstances have changed. Where before I was a king that had been forcibly driven from my kingdom and forced to work as a blacksmith, now it is my choice to do so. I believe that will make a difference. And while it _is_ true that I could retake a position of power among the dwarves, you would not be content in a dwarf court." He laughed quietly before he continued. "I remember how hard it was to get you out of Bag End and keep you out in the first place. I do not think that I would dare to try it a second time."

"That's just the thing," Bilbo said with a sigh deciding to focus on the second part rather than voice his disbelief that Thorin would ever be content as a blacksmith regardless of the circumstances. "Even Frodo doesn't know yet, only Gandalf and myself knew, but I had intended to leave the Shire on my birthday. Frodo comes of age and I was going to give Bag End to him and move to Rivendell."

"Rivendell?" Thorin snorted in disgust. "Why would you move _there_ of all places? I am sure that if you desired to leave the Shire you would be welcomed in Erebor. Honored even! You would not have had to move in with the elves."

"I wanted to," Bilbo said slowly, fighting back a smile. Some things never changed, and apparently Thorin's distaste for elves would be one of these things. "I would still like to. But I know that that is most likely impossible now. That is why I do not want them to move here. If they did, I would be more tied down than I now am. I need a vacation from the Shire, at least for a while, and if they try to establish a settlement I will never be able to leave even for a vacation. It just adds more complication to things that have already been complicated by your return. I don't know what we're going to do now."

"Is there a "we" to worry about?" Thorin asked sadly. "I know that there once was, but I do not know where we stand now."

"Neither do I," Bilbo replied honestly. "I still love you but I don't know that I can trust you anymore. I have changed over the years, Thorin. I know I don't look it, but I am old now. I feel it. I don't want to deal with the heartbreak you could cause me. But I also don't want to give up the chance to reclaim what we once had out of fear. I just need time to figure it all out."

"I understand," Thorin replied, cursing himself once again for his own stupidity. He wished again that he had never even _heard _of the Arkenstone. "What do you want me to do? Would you like me to leave while you think?" Bilbo's heart clinched at the idea of Thorin leaving. He may not be able to trust him completely yet but he did need him and want him. He couldn't stand the thought of him leaving again, not so soon after he had returned.

"No," Bilbo said almost desperately, grabbing the dwarf's hand for the first time since they had almost kissed in his kitchen. "That is not what I want. I want you to stay with me while I decide. However, I do not want them to begin planning for a future that may never happen. Not until we're sure of what _we're_ going to do. Do you think that you can get them to delay laying the foundations of their town until after my birthday? I will have made my decision by then."

"I can do that much for you," Thorin replied glad that he could do something to help his hobbit. "I will fix it in the morning. I don't know about you, but I am exhausted. Today has been . . ." he trailed off as he could not find a word that adequately described the day that had just passed. Rather than say anything, Bilbo yawned in response and began changing into his night clothes.

Even though he had seen Bilbo naked before, Thorin averted his eyes as the hobbit stripped. Somehow he felt that he owed Bilbo that much privacy, little as it was, until they decided where they were and where they were going to be going with their relationship. Rather than watching the hobbit change, Thorin occupied himself with removing the outer layers of his clothing in preparation for sleep.

Thorin slid beneath the sheet, facing the wall on the far side of the bed in an attempt to keep Bilbo from feeling trapped. He would have preferred to take the hobbit in his arms, but he was worried that Bilbo would not appreciate the gesture while he was still sorting things out in his own mind and didn't want to give Bilbo the wrong impression about his intent to wait for the hobbit to come to him.

Bilbo laid himself on the opposite edge of the bed with his back to the dwarf feeling more awkward than he had in a very long time. Even though he could feel the warmth of the other flowing between them in the space created by their shared blankets he didn't dare to close the space between them and press himself against the dwarf. Not until he knew what he wanted. Until then, it would be best to keep some kind of distance between them—or so he told himself.

Despite their feelings of uncertainty and apprehension, once they were asleep they unconsciously reached for one another seeking the companionship they both craved. Sometime in the night, Thorin and Bilbo both rolled over and found themselves against the other. It was like this—Bilbo snuggled into Thorin's side—that they awoke the next morning. Their discomfort from the night before returned in an instant and left them unable to look at one another as they dressed and prepared for the day.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are y'all. A new chapter :) I hope you enjoyed it.**

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read this story or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I would love to hear what you thought so leave me a review if you have time and/or are so inclined. **

**Stickdonkeys**


	6. Chapter 6

Once they were dressed, Thorin and Bilbo walked left Bilbo's bedroom hoping that the awkwardness of the night before would remain there. It did not. It followed them, permeating the air around them and seemed to seep into their very pores and fill them with anxiety. They both knew that they could not continue ignoring the tension between them, but neither wanted to be the one to bring up the past and start the inevitable argument, so they both said nothing as they began to prepare to cook breakfast.

Even with the tension that was palpable between Thorin and himself, Bilbo had to smile at the sight of his nephew sleeping in the kitchen surrounded by dwarves. Poor Frodo would have quite a start when he woke and realized that Bofur was using his leg as pillow and that Balin had stolen most of his blanket while Dwalin had apparently decided that Frodo looked enough like his wife to merit a cuddle. The dwarves wouldn't care, but Frodo, who had always slept alone, was sure to be nearly as shocked as Bilbo had been the first time he had awoken in the pile of dwarves if not more so. It might do the lad good, if the shock of that on top of the shocks of the day before didn't kill him.

"They seem to like him," Thorin whispered quietly in Bilbo's ear as he watched the hobbit stare at his nephew. Bilbo only smiled. He wished that they had taken to him near as quick as they seemed to have taken to Frodo. It would have made the first part of the quest easier. Thorin sighed when Bilbo said nothing. He had hoped that they could have a civil conversation and that the nephew Bilbo was so fond of might have provided the topic, but it seemed it was not to be.

Thorin did not try to start a conversation again, and neither did Bilbo. The two of them finished the preparations for a _large_ breakfast and began to cook it.

"I'll need to go to the market today," Bilbo said suddenly. "Feeding two hobbits and four dwarves . . . my poor pantry is not big enough for this." Thorin laughed quietly. It was one of the largest pantries he had ever seen in a single-family home and Bilbo thought it would not be large enough. His laugh quieted as he remembered how much hobbits and dwarves were capable of eating. They did need to shop soon.

"I can come with you," Thorin offered. "It will let us buy more supplies so we do not have to go again soon. I'd also like to see if there are any spirits stronger than ale to be had in this town."

"Don't waste your time, lad," Balin mumbled. The sound of voices and the smells of food had roused him from sleep. "Hobbits don't know how to drink. That is something else we will have to remedy when we move here. We will have to set up a dwarven distillery if we want anything stronger than water."

"Our ale is not water," Bilbo said glaring at the semi-conscious dwarf. "It is sufficiently stout for a good evening without causing a bad morning." He could still remember the time that Balin had given him dwarven ale that he had promised was not strong . . . and the horrific headache he had had the next morning. He knew that dwarves had thick skulls, but if that was what it took to penetrate them he had no desire to see what they considered "strong."

"May as well be," Balin muttered opening an eye to glance at the hobbit that was standing over him. He didn't bother to suppress his smile as Bilbo looked up at Thorin beseechingly. Thorin sighed as he saw the look. He knew that the hobbit was not asking for help in the argument, but rather for Thorin to end it. He had wanted to wait until after breakfast, but now was as good a time as any.

"About the settlement," Thorin said with a sigh, "I believe it would be best if you held off on planning anything concrete until after the party. Bilbo has promised me that he will have his decision by then. Now," he said holding up a hand to stall the protest he could see forming in Balin's eyes, "I am not telling you to stop planning, I am simply saying that you are not to break ground or to send for belongings or family until we are sure this is a good idea."

"Of course it's a good idea!" Balin said a little more loudly than necessary at the suggestion that he had come up with a bad plan. It especially stung when he considered that he had never once questioned Thorin's plan to reclaim Erebor aloud—even if he had doubted they would survive the experience. This was much less fraught with peril. Bilbo aside, he didn't think hobbits in general were dangerous. Even _if_ they didn't want them there, odds were that all that would come of it would be a few glares and mutterings.

Even had he decided to say any of this to the pair—which he never would have—he never got the chance. At the louder sound of his voice, Frodo awoke and—in his surprise at being a pillow and at having Dwalin's arm around his middle—gave a loud squeak so reminiscent of the first time Bilbo had woken up in Thorin's arms that the two shared a soft smile before they tried to referee the brewing fight before it destroyed Bilbo's home.

"—Do _not_ recall giving you permission to do that!" Frodo was saying to the shocked Dwalin with his eyes wide. "Nor did you ask first. I was not aware that though protecting my ears I would be violated in other ways."

"We _did not_ violate you, lad. It was a mere cuddle. Nothing more," Dwalin said as he tried to cover his smile. Perhaps Bilbo really was a normal hobbit. They had had a similar conversation many years before. He had always assumed that Bilbo only claimed to be normal but now . . .

"Are all of you hobbits so fussy and prudish?" Dwalin asked cutting off Frodo's insistence that it was still a violation, mere cuddle or not. Frodo gaped at him like a fish, while Bilbo—who was much more accustomed to dwarves—smiled as he saw a means of potentially convincing the dwarves that they did not want to stay in Hobbiton.

"Actually, he is much less fussy and prudish than most," Bilbo replied. "After living with me for so long he is a little more accepting that the vast majority of hobbits. Are you sure that you still want to live here?" Thorin shot him a look as he realized what Bilbo was up to. However he said nothing, choosing instead to sit back and see how Bilbo liked the answer to such a question. He knew that it would be entertaining.

"They cannot possibly be worse than you were when we first met you," Bofur said nudging Frodo affectionately while he looked at Bilbo. "Do you know what your uncle did when he first met us?"

"Before or after he fainted?" Dwalin asked smiling at the memory and marveling at the change in the hobbit that the quest had wrought. He had quickly gone from fussy and nearly useless to proving his worth time and time again. Bilbo Baggins had been an excellent fourteenth member even if he never became much of a fighter.

"He fainted?" Frodo asked with wide eyes, his wounded sensibilities forgotten at hearing aspects of the story he had never heard before. Bilbo had always glossed over the arrival of the dwarves, preferring to pick up once they were at the trolls rather than at the beginning and always stopping before the end. He was so excited by the prospect of hearing the rest of the story that he failed to notice that his uncle was seething once more.

"Oh yes!" Balin replied with a laugh. "Just keeled right over with the loudest shriek I had ever heard in my life. No one even threatened him. We had only just presented him with a contract, nothing more."

"Yes," Bilbo cut in angrily. "To my credit, the contract _did_ list all the ways that I could die that were not covered by more than funeral expenses and they did consist of incineration if memory serves."

"We all signed that contract," Bofur said gesturing at Bilbo dismissively. "And none of us fainted, did we Thorin?" Thorin sighed before he answered. He did not want to get involved in this. He could see no answer that he could give that would not anger someone or be a lie.

"No," he finally said when it was apparent that he could not abstain, "however, to be fair, you _did_ all know of the risks before you were presented with the contract." The dwarves rolled their eyes at his answer.

"You would say that," Dwalin muttered glaring at the ex-king. Thorin only shrugged in response but did not reply. He had learned that there were times it was best to remain silent.

"The fainting aside," Bofur said to move the story along once more, "do you know what he was worried about once we actually got him out of the house." Frodo shook his head and looked around eagerly while Bilbo glared warningly at Bofur and Thorin gave him the minutest of headshakes to tell him not to say it.

"I remember!" Balin said with another laugh. "His handkerchief! He had run out the door without it and was upset that he would have to go on a quest without it."

"He didn't have anything else either," Dwalin chimed in mirth dancing in his eyes. "No cloak, no change of clothes, no provisions. It was a good thing that we were well outfitted before the mountain pass or he never would have made it even as far as Rivendell. I had never met such a fussy creature in all my life."

At his words, Bilbo's eyes filled with rage and he spun towards the front door, pausing only to grab his pipe off the table before he stormed out the front door slamming it behind him. Silence followed his exit. It was eventually broken by a sigh from Thorin.

"Breakfast is on the table," he said shortly before placing two portions on plates and following Bilbo out the door.

"Lads," Balin said sadly once both of them were gone. "I think we may have gone too far this time." No one said anything but the shame in the room was tangible. They hadn't meant to upset Bilbo. Even so, they had and they had no idea what they could do to make it right.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Outside Bilbo was sitting in his garden, where this whole mess had started sixty years ago and smoking his pipe angrily. He knew that they had meant no harm, and generally their words would not have upset him so, but he was on edge from everything that had happened. The question of what to do about his and Thorin's relationship and his own confused emotions on the subject needed an outlet and the dwarves, and their teasing, had provided one. He knew that he would feel remorse for his burst of temper later, but now he just wanted to let his anger flow.

"Confounded dwarves!" he muttered to himself. "Coming in and taking over my life and my home again! A curse on them all. Useless things!"

"Do you truly feel that way?" Thorin asked quietly from behind him. Bilbo jumped at his words and turned to see the dwarf standing a little ways away holding two plates and looking hurt. "Are we useless?" He knew that Bilbo had not meant his words, but they stung all the same. He had thought the same things about himself so many times and to hear them from the hobbit—with all the raw emotions between them—was too much.

"No," Bilbo replied deflating as he thought about what he had said. "Dwarves aren't useless. You aren't useless. I'm just frustrated. I'm sorry." Thorin smiled but said nothing in answer to his apology and felt his shoulder droop slightly when Bilbo turned back to look at the flowers. He had hoped that Bilbo would invite him over, but he didn't want to encroach on the angry hobbit's space.

"I brought breakfast," Thorin said softly. "You ran out without it."

"Thank you," Bilbo replied blowing out smoke before glancing at Thorin once more.

"So I'll just leave it here, shall I" Thorin asked leaning forward to set the plate beside Bilbo and preparing to return to the house.

"You can stay," Bilbo said looking up at him with sad eyes. "If you want." Thorin smiled widely at the words. Even if it wasn't the declaration of love that he had been hoping for, it was something. He sat down next to Bilbo on the bench and closed his eyes as he filled his nostrils with the familiar smell of pipe smoke. It was a smell that he associated with Bilbo and many fond memories of nights they had spent talking together.

"Thank you," Thorin said honestly and handed the plate to Bilbo who nodded. They sat in silence eating their breakfast and looking at Bilbo's flowers. It was almost a companionable silence and neither of them wanted to be the one to break it.

"You know," Bilbo eventually said turning his head to look at Thorin once more, "I think we are making it more complicated than this needs to be."

"What do you mean?" Thorin asked. He knew what he hoped the hobbit was meaning, but he didn't dare to voice it until he was sure. He didn't even allow himself to hope because he didn't think he could bear the disappointment if he was wrong.

Bilbo sighed before he continued. "I mean us. It's complicated, I know that. And we have things that we will need to discuss, but I don't see why we can't try to make this work. I can't stand this tension between us anymore. I know that it may not work out, but we have to try . . . that is, if you want to. I mean, I know that I am not the same as I was, but the one thing that has not changed is the fact that I love you."

"Of course I want to try," Thorin replied, his voice harsh with emotion. "I crossed time to be with you. I would not change my mind now . . . no matter how dire the consequences may prove to both our pieces of mind." He grimaced at the last thought as he remembered what awaited them back in the house. "What does this mean for the others? Should we let them start their settlement or delay them longer?"

"Let's have them wait a while longer," Bilbo said with a sad smile. "That was if this doesn't work out . . . well . . . it will be . . ."

"Less trouble to end," Thorin supplied in a quiet voice. The hobbit nodded unable to give voice to the fate that he knew was a possibility. It was with a soft, nervous smile that Bilbo reached over slowly and laced his fingers through Thorin's. The dwarf gave the smaller hand a gentle squeeze before returning the smile and leaning in slowly, his eyes warning Bilbo what he had planned and begging for permission for what he had planned.

Even though Bilbo had made the first move, Thorin stopped with a hair's breadth between their lips and waited for Bilbo to close the distance. After little more than a heartbeat, the hobbit did so enthusiastically. Into that kiss he poured all his desire, longing and love that had built up over the last sixty years along with his frustration, anger and grief. Thorin took them all and gave back his love and understanding that things would take time to return to how they were, if they ever could.

Once they came up for air, Thorin brought his hand up to stroke the side of Bilbo's face and looked into his eyes. "I promise you," he said his voice little more than a whisper. "If it is within my power, things _will_ turn out differently this time. And I _swear _to you I _will not_ repeat my mistakes." Knowing that no reply he could make would be adequate, Bilbo gently stroked the side of Thorin's face, a smile crossing his own face as the dwarf leaned into the touch.

From the window, three faces continued to watch on as a poor, traumatized hobbit was currently laying on the floor—having fainted.

"I knew they wouldn't make it through the day," Bofur said with a smile. "Pay up lads."

"I said—" Dwalin began only to be cut off by Balin who was already passing coins to Bofur having placed his bet for last night.

"You said that they wouldn't make it through dinner," Balin said nudging his brother. "_He_ said that they wouldn't make it to lunch. Now pay up." With a grumble Dwalin dug into his pockets to find the gold he now owed to Bofur.

"So lads," Balin began with a sly smile, "Care to take bets on when this gets _physical_ again?" Frodo was beginning to come around just as the dwarves began to discuss in graphic detail what they thought might take place between Thorin and Bilbo and when each step would take place. Some of the things they were describing were so horrific—to Frodo—that he gave another squeak and fainted once more.

"Excitable things, aren't they?" Dwalin asked looking at the hobbit on the floor.

"Yep," Bofur agreed. "Anyone want to see how many times we can make him do that before their birthday?"

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter out for your reading pleasure.**

**Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this or to add it to their favorites or alerts**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. I would love to hear what you thought so leave me a review if you have the time and/or are so inclined**

**Stickdonkeys**


	7. Chapter 7

Bilbo groaned and fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. This was a disaster. An absolute disaster. He would almost have preferred to be facing down Smaug again rather than endure the looks that the inhabitants of Hobbiton were currently giving him. He might say that he didn't care what they thought about him . . . but despite his, decidedly, unhobbit-like tendencies he was still a Baggins and this . . . it was too much.

When he and Thorin had come in from the garden the others had been too quiet. He should have known then that they were planning evil. He had been suspicious when they had offered to do his dishes once more and was thankful when Frodo declared that he would do them instead. It wasn't that he didn't want the dwarves to help, but he remembered what their idea of "doing the dishes" had consisted of and Frodo was looking decidedly ruffled and he wasn't sure that the lad could handle the sight of flying crockery—even if the dwarves didn't break anything.

And then Frodo had suggested that perhaps the dwarves would like to help Bilbo with the grocery shopping. Bilbo's suspicion had increased with this suggestion and the dwarves' enthusiastic agreement to it. He wasn't sure what they had planned, or what his nephew had to do with it, but he knew that in all the times that the dwarves had come to visit him they had never even once come to the market with him. He should have forbidden them from coming. He knew, even then, that no good would come of it, but Frodo had looked so happy at the prospect of a little peace and quiet that Bilbo couldn't make them stay. He remembered just how overwhelming they could be en masse if you weren't used to them and even though Frodo had been here when they had visited before, he had generally been asleep or out of the house for most of their visit and there had never been so many before.

"Fine," Bilbo had said with a shrug. "You can come. Just _try_ not to make nuisances of yourselves." Little had he known that with those words his fate had been sealed. After the dwarves had taken bets on who could cause Frodo to faint the most and how many times it would be they had decided to _broaden_ their horizons, so to speak. They knew that Bilbo and Thorin intended to go to the market and devised a plan to get themselves included in this little trip. Their goal was simple: shock as many hobbits as possible during the trip and see if what Bilbo had said about hobbits being fussy and prudish was true.

They had left Bag End and had started right away making lewd jokes that had even caused Bilbo—who had traveled across Middle Earth with them and was _quiet_ used to how dwarves behave—to flush slightly at the tips of his ears in embarrassment. Once they came to more habited parts, they toned it down a bit, trying to see how little it would actually take to scandalize "normal" hobbits. They were disappointed when all it took to get the first scandalized squeak from a hobbit was Dwalin saying that he missed his wife and couldn't wait until he could get home to her and "receive a proper greeting" and that Bilbo and Thorin were lucky that they did not have to wait if they chose not to.

"That's one nice thing about not having a wife," Bofur had replied slapping Dwalin on the shoulder. "I can receive a _proper greeting_ wherever I go." Dwalin laughed while Balin murmured in agreement seemingly ignorant of the stares that were being cast their way. The hobbits within earshot—with the exception of Bilbo who was pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut—covered their mouths and looked at the dwarves and Bilbo with wide eyes.

"Well I never," one woman muttered scandalized as she covered the ears of the hobbit boy with her and ushered him away from the dwarves—who he was looking at with awe. He had never seen a dwarf before. What the dwarves didn't seem to realize was that they didn't need to resort to bawdy humor to shock the hobbits: their mere presence was enough. Even though they were only lightly armored and armed, most hobbits had never seen anything like them before.

Even though all the residents of Hobbiton had heard Bilbo's story and knew that rumor had it that he still entertained the dwarves that he had quested with, no one really _believed _it. It was like the rumor that Bag End was filled with tunnels that were full of gold. It was interesting and made for good gossip, but no one _truly_ thought that was the case. There were even residents that said that Bilbo had never gone on an adventure but had moved to Bree for a year and that all the money he had was his inheritance from the Old Took. And to see Bilbo in the company of not one but _four _dwarves . . . they had been shocked even before the dwarves had opened their mouths.

And opened their mouths they had! After Dwalin's statement and Bofur's reply things had only gone downhill from there. They three of them were now discussing the relative merits of marriage and bachelorhood. And despite the rather . . . carnal nature of their discussion and the embarrassment it caused the hobbits, they found themselves oddly entranced by the discussion. Some of the things that the dwarves were describing the hobbits hadn't even known were possible. They had drawn quite a crowd at this point which only seemed to spur the dwarves to further heights – or deeper depths of depravity as the case may be—to try to get at least one member of their impromptu audience to faint.

"Please," Bilbo begged grabbing Thorin's arm and looking at him with desperate eyes. "Do something to stop them. Please!" Thorin sighed. He wasn't sure that even _he_ could stop them now that they had truly gotten going. But he would try.

"That's enough," he snapped just as Bofur started to go into detail about one of his conquests—a male conquest at that. "You are among civilized folk now. That kind of talk might entertain around a fire or in a pub—and perhaps not even there in the Shire. As Bilbo told you last night—though you should have known before, having traumatized him so many times on the quest—hobbits _do not_ discuss these things in polite company. But whether or not they would discuss such things after a few pints at the pub_, this_ is a market. There are women and children. How would you feel if someone was discussing this in front of your daughter, Dwalin? There are children here younger than her. This is _not_ the place for this discussion. If your only reason for coming here was to scandalize the hobbits, then return to Bag End. If you intend to help us then be silent and do so."

The dwarves at least had the grace to look ashamed at their action. They hadn't thought about the fact that there were children. Their aim had only been to have a little fun and they had figured that even though hobbits were prudish they might at least find it entertaining. As they looked around at the disturbed faces that surrounded them—varying in color from tomato red to ghostly pale—they realized that they had made a mistake.

"We're sorry," Balin said refusing to meet Thorin's eyes. The king raised an eyebrow and gestured at the crowd.

"It was not me that you offended," Throin said regally. "It is not me to whom you owe an apology, but rather to them. And if you _do_ mean to go through with your plan I would suggest that you give it to them. Their goodwill will do much to aid you in it." Turning to face the crowd the dwarves offered them a deep bow.

"We apologize for our words," Dwalin said quietly. He had never thought that he would live to see the day that he apologized to a crowd of hobbits.

"We forgot where we were and who we were among," Bofur added feeling thoroughly shamed by Thorin's words. He hadn't meant to say things that aught not be said in front of children with children present. Even though he didn't have them, he had close relatives that did.

"We ask your pardon," Balin finished. At their apology the hobbits were more shocked than they had been by their words, if it was possible, and mumbled a few acceptances before the crowd dispersed and went about their business though there was still mutterings about crude dwarves and the mad Baggins that had brought them to the market.

**ooOO88OOoo**

The rest of the trip to the market went relatively smoothly. There was one tense moment where Bilbo and Dwalin got into an argument over the hobbit's choice of cheese. The dwarf had tried to put the cheese Bilbo had chosen back because "it was moldy" and Bilbo had resolutely returned it to the basket he carried and paid the hobbit selling it.

"Civilized my arse," he grumbled under his breath thinking that Bilbo would not be able to hear. "We would never dream of eating cheese that had gone moldy."

"That is where you draw the line?" Bilbo asked incredulously turning to face the dwarf and ending up nose to chest with him. If Bilbo hadn't have been so angry, Thorin would have laughed at the image they presented, Bilbo—whose leg was not as big around as Dwalin's arm—bowing up to the dwarf and attempting to intimidate him. As it was, Thorin knew that he needed to calm Bilbo before he started a fight that he couldn't win.

"Loudly discussing sexual acts in the market is civilized behavior but Aulë forbid we try to eat blue cheese!" Bilbo yelled glaring up at the warrior. "I swear! Dwarves are the most infuriating creatures in the entirety of Middle Earth!"

"I doubt that's what you said last night," Dwalin replied with snide smile. Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, his face colorless at the shock of Dwalin saying such a thing where anyone at all could hear . . . it wasn't that he was ashamed of his relationship, but what Dwalin had said was not true. Once his shock faded it was replaced by anger. His hands balled into fists of their own accord and even though he knew that he stood no chance against Dwalin in a fight, he was prepared to take a swing at him. Even the dwarves that had not been intimate with Bilbo knew that Dwalin had gone too far this time and were prepared to step in a stop bloodshed but Thorin beat them to it.

"Let's just take a step back a breath," Thorin said in a soothing voice as he stepped between them. He had seen that expression on Bilbo's face before and knew that no good could come of it. He knew that the hobbit was just angry enough to do something rash and stupid. And Dwalin might be smiling in amusement now, but he knew that if Bilbo managed to draw blood there would be a fight that no one could stop. No. He had to stop them before it came to blows.

"I don't want to breathe," Bilbo replied murder flashing in his eyes. "I want to finish this _discussion_ on civilized behavior, and perhaps demonstrate what passes for uncivilized behavior here."

"Then you will have to go through me," Thorin said simply in voice that was much calmer than he felt. He hated stepping between Bilbo and something he wanted to do, but he could not stand by and watch the man he loved pick a fight he couldn't win. If Dwalin hurt him . . . Thorin didn't want to think about how things would go from there but he knew that the resulting brawl would traumatize the peaceful hobbits more than the lewd discussions of the others ever could.

"Move," Bilbo snarled, his voice hard and so unlike him that it made Thorin's heart clench. When had Bilbo become so angry? He knew that the hobbit was stressed, but there seemed to be more to it than that. There was fury there that Thorin had never seen before, even when Bilbo had gone to battle. Where had it come from?

"No," Thorin replied trying to keep his confusion out of his voice knowing that when he got in one of these moods that any sign of weakness only prolonged it. "I am doing you a favor, Bilbo Baggins. You and Dwalin can finish this discussion later, once you are both calmer."

"I'm perfectly ca—" Dwalin began only to cut himself off at the icy glare that Thorin gave him over his shoulder.

"Bilbo," Thorin said in a gentle tone placing his hands on the hobbit's shoulders and leaning down to look him in the eyes, "It's fine. It really is. _We_ know what happened last night and that is all that matters. Let them speculate and allude. We know the truth."

"They shouldn't speak on things that are not their business," Bilbo snapped glaring at Dwalin around Thorin's shoulder.

"No," Thorin agreed. "But they will. People always talk. You told me that once. Remember?" He watched as Bilbo's face softened at the memory and allowed it to surface for him as well.

_It had been right after the two of them had gotten together in Beorn's home. The company had been discussing the relationship between the two of them and speculating about which of them was being taken by the other. Their talk had angered Thorin—who felt that it was none of their business who was doing the taking or if there had even been any taking—and he had been preparing to put an end to it when Bilbo had placed a gentle hand on his arm and smiled up at him shyly._

"_Let them talk," he had said. "If you try to stop them it will only make them want to talk about it more. Besides, I don't mind. I kind of like the fact that they don't actually know but are curious enough to try and guess even if they are being a bit nosey." Thorin had sighed and sat down next to his lover once more._

"_I can't believe they have decided that you are the one doing the taking," Thorin grumbled his pride wounded that his company thought that he would submit like that. "As if that could be the case." _

"_You never know," Bilbo said with a coy smile as he stroked one of Thorin's braids. "We should give it a try some time. You might like it." Thorin had laughed at the idea at the time. He was a king. He did the taking, not the other way around. Even though he knew that it was something that would never happen he had said nothing of the sort to Bilbo at the time._

At the reminder of his own words Bilbo seemed to deflate. He didn't offer Dwalin an apology, but the strange light that had been in his eyes faded and once more it was nothing more than a tired old hobbit with sad eyes that stood before Thorin. A single tear escaped his eye at the reminder of a time when things had been so much simpler and they had been so happy together. Thorin gently wiped it away with his thumb and felt a sad smile cross his face as Bilbo leaned into the touch. They both knew that they could never go back to that time, but perhaps they could reclaim something of it.

At the sound of a throat being cleared, the two of them jumped apart—only just realizing how close they had actually been to _demonstrating_ some of the behavior that the others had been discussing. They glanced around them and realized that they had drawn a crowd once more and that this time they were not staring at the dwarves, but at Bilbo. The hobbit blushed under the scrutiny of his neighbors and made a show of straighting his clothing—though nothing was out of place—before he cleared his own throat.

"Um . . . I think that is enough shopping for now, don't you?" Bilbo asked looking at the dwarves hopefully. He hoped that they would agree and return to Bag End. If there was anything they had forgotten they could always send Frodo back. He hadn't made a public spectacle of himself twice in one day.

"We just need one more thing," Balin said looking at Bilbo with what was almost pity. He knew that the poor hobbit was having a hard time reconciling the two separate lives he had led into one. He had never tried to do it, but he had lived among men for a time and had known dwarves that had. Very rarely could the two pieces be fit together neatly. For the first time he wondered if it was a good idea for them to move to the Shire after all. As Thorin had reminded them frequently, dwarves and hobbits had very different mores and traditions. What if they could not find a way to make them mesh? He pushed the thought aside. Little that was worth doing was easy. This would be no different.

"Please tell me that it is close," Bilbo replied pinching the bridge of his nose once more.

"It's on the way back to the house," Balin replied turning and beginning the process of making his way through the amassed hobbits. It wasn't a difficult task since they seemed reluctant to be in his way and moved to allow the dwarves and Bilbo to pass.

"This has been the most stressful week of my life," Bilbo sighed to himself. "I don't see how it can get any worse."

"More stressful that when you crept into the den of Smaug the Terrible or hid in the palace of the Elf King?" Bofur asked genuinely curious. He hadn't realized that they ranked above those two events in stress causing ability and was both proud and ashamed that the same time.

"They do not even _begin _to compare," Bilbo replied exasperatedly.

"I know of something that can help you to relieve stress, Master Baggins," Dwalin offered with a wry smile at the hobbit. Rather than reply Bilbo began rubbing soothing circles in his own temples to combat the headache he could feel coming on. "Helps with headaches too," Dwalin added.

"Let them talk," Bilbo heard Thorin whisper and looked up helplessly at the dwarf who offered Bilbo a smile before threading their fingers together and continuing the walk home. Bilbo smiled at the realization of a desire that he had had for ages that he and Thorin could walk hand-in-hand through the Shire. He was so pleased, in fact, that he did not hear the birth of a rumor about the relationship between Mad Baggins and a strangely polite dwarf begin to spread through the market.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all a new chapter. It'll be the last one for a little bit. I'm going on vacation next week and will have very limited internet access or computer time . . . but things will still be percolating and I should be able to get a long chapter up either Friday or Sunday of next week. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one.**

**I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this chapter and to everyone who has added this story to their alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought so leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined**

**Stickdonkeys. **


	8. Chapter 8

Frodo sighed as he watched his uncle and the dwarves walk out of the room. He knew that it was wrong but he couldn't help but feel relieved that they were going to go and bother someone else for a while. He had the strangest suspicion that they were doing things for the sole purpose of offending him and seeing what reaction he would give. He knew that thought was preposterous. The dwarves wouldn't do something like that. They were just dwarves being dwarves, there was no malicious intent to their actions. It was just the way they were. Even so, he was glad that he was going to have a dwarf-free afternoon.

He started the dishes at a leisurely pace, wondering why his uncle had seemed so reluctant to let the dwarves wash them. Surely the dwarves, warriors though they were, were capable of washing dishes. He had seen the beautiful things that they made and the intricate details they worked into metal. Any hands that could manage that could easily handle washing dishes without breaking them. As he thought more about it, he realized that he had never seen a visiting dwarf do the dishes and that if they had ever offered his uncle had blustered about before either washing them himself or having Frodo do it. He wondered what had happened that made his uncle so reluctant to let the dwarves wash dishes. Knowing that it may be a story he didn't want to hear, but unable to curb his natural curiosity, Frodo decided that he would ask them about it that evening since he knew his uncle would never tell him.

He had only just finished the dishes and done a little light cleaning before settling down to read in the window seat overlooking the garden when he heard the door to Bag End bang open and heard Bilbo's voice. He closed his book with a sigh. He had thought that it would take longer for them to return, but now that they had, he knew that there would not be any peace and quiet to be had for a while. Especially since, from the sound of it, his uncle was in a right rage at the moment.

"—never been so embarrassed in my entire life!" Bilbo was saying. "I can't _believe_ you did that!"

"It wasn't that bad," Bofur argued. "We just—"

"Not that bad!?" Bilbo shrieked. "Not that bad? Then what would you consider bad, Bofur? The _entire_ Shire was in that market! How could you—"

"Now, Bilbo," Balin interrupted his voice soothing as he tried to make the hobbit see reason. "It wasn't the entire Shire. Maybe half."

"Half is still enough!" Bilbo snapped turning to face Balin. "The rest of the Shire will know what happened before nightfall!"

"It won't be _us_ they will be talking about," Dwalin said with a smirk looking between Thorin and Bilbo. They may not have heard the whispers that followed them, but Dwalin had. He knew that the lewd conversations of the dwarves paled in comparison to the intrigue of Bilbo and Thorin's interactions and the speculations they had given rise to.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Bilbo demanded glaring up at Dwalin once more. Thorin sighed and edged his way around the irate hobbit on his way to the pantry to put up the groceries he was carrying. He figured that they could talk about it without his supervision for a few minutes at any rate. They could probably avoid coming to blows for that long.

"What happened at the market?" Frodo asked Thorin in an undertone as the dwarf passed him. The dwarf only shook his head and sighed deeply before he gestured for the hobbit to follow him. Frodo realized that it wasn't a "no" but rather a "not here" and set his book down before he followed the ex-king into the pantry and helped him to put away the groceries.

"So," Frodo repeated, "what happened?"

"It turns out that they only wanted to come with us to scandalize the locals," Thorin said amusement and irritation warring for dominance in his expression. Even if he didn't approve of their goal to traumatize the hobbits, he was glad to see that some things never change no matter how much time passed. They had tried to scandalize Bilbo all the way to Erebor and it made him smile to hear their familiar interactions, though it hurt him as well. Fíli and Kíli had been the chief instigators in harassing Bilbo, and the behavior of the others only served to highlight their absence for Thorin.

"And?" Frodo prompted knowing what the outcome of that venture had been both from what he knew of hobbits and dwarves and from the rant Bilbo was currently having in the entry.

"They succeeded," Thorin replied with a shrug, his tone dry. He tried to push his sorrow back. No amount of regret would bring them back and he knew that his nephews would not want him to linger on their deaths and forget to live the second chance he had been blessed with. Frodo nodded. He had suspected as much.

"And Bilbo brought you all straight home to yell at them," Frodo said with a soft smile. He had been brought straight home before . . . though he had been smaller and he doubted that it would end the same way for the dwarves as it had for him.

"No," Thorin replied. "We finished shopping." Frodo looked up at the dwarf in confusion. Bilbo had let them stay in the market after what they had done? Even though he wasn't entirely sure what they had done, it had clearly been bad for Bilbo to be yelling at them now. In all the times they had visited Bilbo had _never_ yelled at them, no matter what they got up to. It made no sense that he would have let them stay in the market if they did something vile enough to invoke the old hobbit's wrath.

"They apologized to the hobbits and we went about our business," Thorin explained seeing the confusion on Frodo's face.

"But you came back so quickly," Frodo said his voice still showing confusion. "Going to market usually takes twice as long, even though Uncle rarely lingers. What else happened?" Thorin never got a chance to tell Frodo what else had happened at the market for in that moment there was what was unmistakably a battle cry from the direction of the living room followed by the sound of a scuffle. Before Frodo could ask what had happened, Thorin had disappeared back down the hall. Confusion on his face once more, Frodo followed after the dwarf at a more leisurely pace.

Thorin grabbed the post of the door in the kitchen to help him make the corner wishing for the first time since he was back that he had a sword. The Valar had neglected to give him a weapon when they resurrected him. It hadn't bothered him until now. He had recognized the cry as Bilbo's voice and wondered what could have come through the door that would cause the hobbit to make such a noise. Was it orcs? Goblins? And army of angry hobbits? He could still hear a struggle going on so he knew that the conflict was not yet resolved. He steeled himself for the worst and was prepared to fight hand-to-hand if that was what it took.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him. Dwalin was against the wall of the entry with his hand over his nose and his eyes wide with shock while Balin and Bofur were both attempting to restrain the hobbit from attacking him again, with little luck. Thorin's sharp eyes took in the situation and realized that he had been mistaken . . . they had needed supervision.

"What happened here?" Thorin demanded his tone harsh as he tried to shock them into stillness. He failed. Bilbo still continued to struggle against the two dwarves that were not currently bleeding against the wall.

"Nothing!" Bofur called grunting as Bilbo elbowed him in the gut in his attempt to get free. "I swear it!"

"Something must have happened," Thorin replied attempting to keep his tone aloof even though he was confused once more. This behavior was nothing like the Bilbo he remembered and he wondered what else had happened in the sixty years he had been gone.

"Nothing enough to merit this!" Balin snapped trying to ignore Bilbo's fingers digging into his arm. He hadn't realized the hobbit was this strong. It should have been no problem for the two of them to restrain him and he was almost too much for them, his rage lending him strength.

"IT WAS ENOUGH TO MERIT MUCH MORE THAN THIS!" Bilbo yelled his voice shrill and his eyes wild as he redoubled his efforts to get free of the restraining hands.

"IT WAS NOT!" Dwalin roared as he recovered himself and stood before moving towards the fuming hobbit. He was leaning over Bilbo and glaring down at him. "I SAID **NOTHING **TO MERIT YOU HITTING ME!" Bilbo didn't cower or show any sign that the larger dwarf intimidated him in the least. He just continued to stare into Dwalin's eyes with his jaw set and his own eyes hard.

"YOU VERY WELL DID!" Bilbo yelled trying desperately to climb over Balin who had courageously thrown himself between the two yelling males.

"ENOUGH!" Thorin roared cutting off Dwalin's reply. "I've had enough of this! The two of you need to calm down and _someone_ needs to tell me what happened." When no one spoke Thorin sighed.

"Dwalin, what did you say?" Thorin asked trying to distract the angered warrior before he decided that it was worth it to go through his brother to get his revenge. The dwarf in question glared at him and gestured wildly at Bilbo as he swore rather impressively in Khuzdul and refused to say any more.

"Bilbo," Thorin tried hoping that one of them would tell him what had happened, "what did he say that offended you?"

"That . . . that," seeming to find no word in the common tongue to describe Dwalin at the moment used a word in a language that Thorin had never heard but must have been a vulgarity because it caused Frodo to squeak and say "Uncle Bilbo, must you use such language!" which Bilbo ignored and continued speaking.

"I would leave off insulting him if I were you, Bilbo," Balin offered as he heard Dwalin growl behind him. Even without Frodo's words the tone had obviously been one of insult and Dwalin had taken it as such even if he hadn't know _exactly_ what it was that Bilbo had called him.

"Yes," Thorin agreed. "That is enough profanity from the both of you. Tell me what happened, without the expletives, if you do not mind."

"He made some rather lewd suggestions as to what should transpire between you and me this evening," Bilbo spat continuing to glare at Dwalin. Apparently he had decided that if he couldn't swear he would be annoyingly polite.

"All I said was that perhaps Bilbo's temper would benefit from a good roll in the hay," Dwalin said looking accusingly at Thorin as though it was _his_ fault that the hobbit was in a foul mood and had taken it out on Dwalin rather than on Thorin.

"Which was uncalled for!" Bilbo snapped. "Hobbits DO NOT discuss these things even among friends!"

"I'M NOT A HOBBIT!" Dwalin yelled shoving Balin out of the way and bending down so that he could get in Bilbo's face. "MOST OF THE PEOPLE IN THIS HOUSE ARE **NOT** HOBBITS! WE'RE DWARVES! AND DWARVES **DO** DISCUSS THESE THINGS! EVEN IF YOU DO NOT!"

"WELL I'M NOT A DWARF!" Bilbo yelled in reply. "Forgive me for forgetting that you lot have no manners."

"No manners!?" Dwalin demanded grabbing the hobbit by the shoulders and giving him a firm shake. "I'm not the one that assaulted a friend and guest in the middle of my home for a joke! No, it is you who have no manners."

"Me!" Bilbo demanded knocking Dwalin's hands away from him and puffing up once more. "I have manners! I'm not the one who—"

"ENOUGH!" Thorin called again stepping between them once again knowing that the brawl that he had feared in the market was about to happen here if he couldn't get them to stop soon. "Dwalin, go help the others to put up the remaining groceries. Bilbo . . ." he paused a moment before he decided that keeping the hobbit in one piece was worth the risk of angering him. "You come with me," he finished firmly.

"NOW!" he roared when it seemed like neither of them was going to do as he had said. Dwalin brushed past him with a glower still on his face.

"You'd better talk some sense into him," he muttered to Thorin in Khuzdul as he passed. Thorin nodded, grateful that the other dwarf was willing to give him the chance to do so. He would have hated to come to blows with his old friend over something as small as a crude joke but he would have done so had it have been necessary to protect Bilbo from the consequences of his own rash behavior.

"What did he say!?" Bilbo demanded pulling against the restraining hand Thorin had placed on his shoulder.

"Never you mind," Thorin replied before placing a second hand on the hobbit and trying to steer him out of the room. "Now, come with me."

"I will not take a single step until you tell me what he said, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo replied glaring up at the dwarf king with his hands on his hips.

"Fine," Thorin replied rising to the challenge before he bent and lifted the angry hobbit, tossing Bilbo over his shoulder like a sack of grain before walking out the front door with Bilbo yelling at him to put him down. He walked for some time until he found a secluded spot in the woods were they could talk. Only once they were there did he set Bilbo on his feet.

"That was a most undignified way for you to get me here," Bilbo snorted straightening his clothes and looking up at the dwarf angrily through his hair.

"I had to do something," Thorin replied trying to keep his tone light when all he wanted to do was grab Bilbo and demand that he tell him what was going on that made him so angry so easily. "Dwalin would have broken you in half had the two of you continued."

"He could have tried," Bilbo replied darkly. The strange light that Thorin had noticed earlier was back and Bilbo had an almost feral look on his face.

"He would have succeeded," Thorin deadpanned. "He's twice your size."

"Perhaps," Bilbo replied with a dark smile that Thorin did not like in the least.

"What is wrong with you?" Thorin finally asked. He knew that it was probably not wise, with how tentative things were between Bilbo and himself, but he felt that it had to be said.

"What do you mean?" Bilbo snapped. "He was the one who—"

"That is _not_ what I am talking about," Thorin snapped cutting off the hobbit knowing that he was going to bring up what Dwalin had said. "I don't care about your fights with Dwalin. Not really. What I care about is _you_. This is not like you. Since when do you start fist fights over anything, let alone a crude comment? What happened to the hobbit that wanted to talk his way out of a battle and negotiate rather than fight?"

"And look how that turned out!" Bilbo snapped stepping towards Thorin with wild eyes. "I tried to negotiate with our "enemies" and in the process made my lover into a more dangerous enemy than they were! Of course I changed tactics after that failure."

"Is that what this is about?" Thorin asked with a bitter laugh. The damned Arkenstone again. "You're still mad about that? Did my apology truly mean nothing to you?"

"No, Thorin," Bilbo snapped. "That is _not_ what this is about. This is about the _sixty years_ that I spent alone and all the plans that I made in that time that I am expected to drop just because you ask it of me. And this is about the fact that decisions are being made about me without my consent once again! And about the fact that your kin are rude and have no regard for my customs." He paused, panting slightly from his anger and glared into the hurt face of his ex-lover.

"Are you done?" Thorin asked, his voice hard and his eyes abnormally bright. Bilbo nodded tersely and Thorin took a deep breath to compose himself before he spoke. He would be _damned_ if he allowed Bilbo Baggins to see him weep over rejection.

"If I had known the hardships my return would cause you I would never have undertaken this venture," Thorin said feeling as though there were a boulder in his throat trying to block the passage of the words but he forced them out anyway. "I had assumed that you would be glad to see me. I'm sorry that I was mistaken. If you wish it, me and my rude kin will be gone before dusk tonight and will never trouble you again. Say the word and it will be done. We will leave and never darken your doorway again. Is that what you wish?"

At his words, so softly spoken that they might have been imagined but so full of hurt that Bilbo knew that he could not have imagined them, Bilbo felt the unnatural anger that had filled his veins fade leaving him feeling weak. He sank to his knees with his head in his hands.

"What have I done?" he sobbed. "I don't know what come over me? How could I have struck him? It really wasn't that bad, what he said. I don't understand it. I just felt so _angry_." At the broken sobs coming from the kneeling hobbit Thorin reached out a hand to touch him before withdrawing it and balling it into a fist at his side. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on either, and wasn't sure Bilbo wanted to be touched or if he wanted to touch him.

"And you," Bilbo continued looking up at Thorin with eyes that were filled with tears rather than anger or that fey light. "I'm so sorry that I made you think I was not pleased to see you. I have missed you so much. What are a few ruined plans in the face of your return? I don't know why I was so preoccupied with the fact that things have changed that I forgot to be happy for _why _they had to. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course I can," Thorin said kneeling down next to the hobbit and drawing him into an embrace. "If you can forgive me for trying to kill you I think it is only fair that I forgive you for hurting my feelings. Just promise me one thing."

"Name it," Bilbo breathed glad that he had been forgiven for his unnecessary outburst. He would do anything Thorin asked of him if it meant that he would not leave. He wasn't sure why he was so desperate to keep the dwarf by his side when he had survived without him for so long, but he knew that he needed him there.

"No matter how angry you get with him _please_ do not punch Dwalin in the face again," Thorin said smiling gently down at the hobbit in his arms. "I would hate for the Valar to have gone to all this trouble to reunite us only to lose you to your own foolishness. Or for me to have to avenge some hurt caused to you by one of my oldest friends." Thorin felt Bilbo shudder slightly as he realized _exactly_ what might have happened as a result of his actions. He had seen Dwalin in battle and knew that he had made what could very well have been a fatal error that day.

"I promise," Bilbo replied. He only hoped that it was a promise that he could keep. He couldn't actually remember deciding to punch the dwarf, only that he had done it. He only hoped that the next time one of those rages hit—and he knew that there would be a next time—he would have more control over his actions. Somehow, he doubted that would be the case.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, it wasn't Sunday, but it wasn't much past it. This chapter was a bit difficult to write and I hope you enjoyed it. **

**I would like to say thank you to the people who took the time to add this story to their favorites or alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it but would love to know what you think even if you did not so leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	9. Chapter 9

Once the groceries were put up, Balin knew that the time had come to say what needed to be said. His brother was still seething, and what he was about to say would do nothing to calm his temper. Even so, he knew that if they wanted to stay in Bag End, or even in the Shire, to help Bilbo celebrate his birthday properly a good will gesture was needed.

"Lads," Balin said with a sigh. "We need to tone it down."

"What?" Bofur asked. "Why? We're just having a bit of fun. He's the one that's overreacting. We haven't done anything more than we usually do. Not really."

"Exactly," Balin said looking at the two of them worry and confusion on his face. "We've behaved just like we always have and he's not responding the same way. Something's wrong. Bilbo has _never_ gotten angry with us before, not really, and today alone we have already managed to accomplish it not once but _three_ times."

"Then he needs to quit being so sensitive," Dwalin snarled not feeling particularly generous to the hobbit that had just punched him in the nose. "He knows this is how we behave and he invited us to come anyway. He should not be surprised or upset by our words."

"No," Balin agreed, "but he is. And I can almost understand it." He held up his hands as his brother made to speak and continued in a slightly louder tone. "Think about it, Dwalin. I'm _not_ saying that he's right, mind you, but the poor lad _is_ under a lot of stress at the moment. We all are. Thorin coming back . . . well, it shocked us . . . imagine what the poor hobbit must feel at the moment. We are compensating for our shock by teasing them, but Bilbo and Thorin may not have come to terms with his return and what it means for them quite yet. There is a lot of lost time and bad blood between them."

"So we should change our ways because he's overly sensitive about the subject?" Dwalin demanded. He couldn't believe that his brother would suggest that they coddle the hobbit. They had never done it before and he had no intention of doing it now.

"That is not what I am saying at all, Brother," Balin said placing a soothing hand on Dwalin's arm. "I'm saying that we leave off with teasing him about their relationship until they have it figured out. If you remember that is why he got angry with you. It wasn't really the cheese; it was when you brought up his sexual relationship with Thorin."

"So I should just forget what he did?" Dwalin demanded loudly glaring down at his brother for even suggesting it. Had Bilbo been another dwarf they would have settled such a dispute with weapons, not words. Assaulting a guest was tantamount to declaring war—even if they _did_ behave poorly you threw them out, you didn't start a brawl.

"Yes," Balin replied. "If he offers you an apology, take it. Explain the severity of what he did if you wish, but accept it. If for no other reason, do it because of your long friendship with him." Dwalin looked away and mumbled under his breath before he nodded curtly.

"Does this mean that we have to give up our contest involving Frodo?" Bofur asked looking like a scolded puppy. He felt horrible that he hadn't been the one to realize that something was wrong with Bilbo more than just being flustered. He should have seen that it was more than embarrassment and frustration. He should have said something to stop Dwalin before things escalated. Or he should have stopped Bilbo before he could actually land the blow.

"Heavens no!" Balin replied oblivious to the guilt that Bofur was feeling. "We just need to leave Bilbo and Thorin in peace for a bit. The lad is still fair game. But perhaps we should be on our best behavior for a couple of days until this dies down." Bofur's eyes lit with mischief at his words. Letting things die down was a good plan. . . and would serve to make it all the more unexpected when they did start back up with young Frodo.

"What do you say we start supper?" Dwalin asked. He was beginning to get hungry and figured that Bilbo and Thorin would appreciate a meal when they returned. If he was going to forgive the hobbit for his transgression he figured that he should do it properly.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Frodo had to admit that he was more than confused by what had just happened. Had his uncle _really_ punched that large dwarf? Frodo wasn't sure what had gotten into Bilbo lately, but he knew that he didn't like it. Since when did his uncle faint, fly into rages and storm out on _breakfast_? True, his uncle had always been strange—reclusive and a bit too sad and a bit too rude for a hobbit—but this . . . was this what Bilbo had been like before Frodo had met him? Somehow he didn't think so. The dwarves had seemed just as shocked by Bilbo's actions as Frodo had.

At the thought of the dwarves, Frodo grew a little apprehensive. While he didn't think that they would harm him in any way, he could hear raised voices coming from the pantry. In the past two days there had been more raised voices in Bag End than Frodo had heard in the entire twelve years he had lived there. He halfway hoped that his uncle and Thorin would return quickly. Thorin seemed to be the only one that could rein the others in at all and from the sound of it, there was about to be another fist fight.

So when the sound of voices faded suddenly and no sound of blows followed, it took everything Frodo had not to go and see what had happened. To say that he was suspicious when the dwarves returned from the pantry carrying food and began to cook would be the understatement of the century. There was no yelling, no crude comments, nothing more than the occasional "can you pass me that." Soon the smells of a warm meal began to waft from the fireplace and Frodo felt his mouth begin to water in anticipation. He edged forward a bit to try and see what it was they were cooking, but pulled back when Dwalin turned to look at him.

The dwarf smiled sadly at him. "Don't worry lad," Dwalin said gently, "I don't bite. I'm sorry that you had to see that a bit ago. I overreacted."

"Um. . . I can't say that I would have handled that well either," Frodo said trying to be diplomatic. He didn't think he would have reacted in the same way, but no one had ever punched him in the nose either.

Dwalin laughed in response and threw an arm around the hobbit. "I'll bet your reaction would have put my rage to shame," he said. "Hobbits are ferocious creatures when provoked." Frodo looked at him skeptically. Other than Bilbo that morning, Frodo couldn't recall having ever seen a hobbit provoked to violence.

Seeing his look, Dwalin laughed again and looked at his brother and Bofur. "He doesn't believe me," Dwalin said a mock hurt tone in his voice.

"Oh, hobbits are dangerous creatures alright," Bofur replied with a laugh. Now Frodo _knew_ they were making fun of him. No one in their right mind would _ever_ consider hobbits dangerous. "Do you remember what happened the time that Thorin walked right up to Bilbo and informed him that he wanted him? Right in the middle of camp no less!"

"I thought Bilbo was going to kill him," Balin replied laughing. "I never knew something that small could be so menacing. I think that was the only time I ever saw Thorin cower, and I knew him as a child. Your uncle," he said turning to address Frodo—who was still being held against Dwalin's side, "grabbed the King of the Dwarves by the elbow and drug him out of camp to yell at him."

"Shouldn't have bothered," Dwalin mumbled. "With a voice as high as his, the sound carried back to us anyway. I hadn't known the hobbit _knew_ some of those words."

"Especially the ones in Khuzdul," Bofur added. "Right vile those were! I suppose that should be a sign that we swear too much, that he picked up on those, eh?"

"Why?" Frodo asked genuinely curious. He had learned a few languages from his uncle and knew that it was the swear words that he remembered the most clearly. "Those are the words most people remember best."

"Yes," Balin agreed, "But we didn't actually _teach_ them to him. He picked them up on his own. That is something for you to take away. Hobbits may be smaller than most other things in the world _but_ what you lack in size you make up for in cunning. It wasn't his size that enabled Bilbo to free us from the dungeons of the Elf King, or to creep into the den of Smaug. It was his _mind_."

"So he really did do all of those things?" Frodo asked. When he had been a child he had believed every word that Bilbo had said. But as he had gotten older, so many of the things his uncle claimed to have done were so fantastic that there was no way they could have actually happened. You didn't play riddles with a creature intent on eating you, or trade riddles with a dragon for that matter!

"Aye," Balin replied with a fond smile.

"We would have been lost without Bilbo," Bofur replied his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile.

"And I'd have been lost without you," Bilbo said softly. They all turned to face him. They hadn't heard him come back in. He stood in front of Thorin not quite looking at them. He looked defeated and tired.

"Dwalin," Bilbo began looking up at the dwarf with sad eyes. "I am so sorry. I never should have hit you. What you said was out of line, but . . . I overreacted. I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"If you were a dwarf, the answer would be no," Dwalin replied grimly. "You have been saying that we do not respect your habits, but what you did was a great transgression on ours. We _do not_ get into fist fights unless we intend to finish the fight in a lethal fashion." Bilbo looked down in shame. He hadn't realized what he had done was _that_ bad. He knew that he had never seen dwarves throw punches outside of combat, but he hadn't realized that he had actually challenged Dwalin to a fight to the death.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said desolately. "I-I didn't know. I don't want to fight you. Not really."

"And I don't want to fight you," Dwalin replied with a small smile. "That's why, since you are a hobbit and an old friend, I will forgive you this time. Please do not put me in this position again."

"I won't!" Bilbo promised vehemently. "I'm not even sure what came over me last time. I don't remember deciding to hit you at all." At that the others exchanged looks. Had they really provoked Bilbo to the point that he blacked out? They were more determined than ever to find out what was bothering their hobbit. It had to be more than just Thorin's return.

"In that case," Dwalin replied, "come join us. We were just talking about how useful you were on the adventure despite your rather rocky start."

"Aye!" Bofur replied grabbing the hobbit by the wrist and pulling him over to the table. "We all know how much you like talking about yourself." Balin shot him a warning glance. That was not treating the hobbit delicately. But rather than take offence Bilbo laughed.

"Of course I do," he said. "I have to if I want to keep up with you lot. Always trading compliments with one another and never having one for the poor, beardless hobbit."

"Oh not this again!" Bofur replied with a mock-sad head shake. "Your uncle has been bringing that back up for sixty years! I wish I had never said it!"

"Said what?" Frodo asked while Bilbo chuckled merrily and Bofur refused to answer. "What did you say?" Thorin's laugh now joined them. He remembered it clearly.

"Bofur said . . . well," Thorin paused as he tried to think of where to pick up the story, "We had just started the journey. We weren't much past Bree, were we?" He paused while the others nodded. "Anyway that is not the point. It was a few nights before we encountered the trolls and . . . well this wasn't exactly my _finest_ moment . . . I was trying to embarrass your uncle and get him to return home. At the time, I thought that he was too soft and would die on the quest. I didn't realize how much we needed him. How much _I_ needed him." At the last words Thorin smiled gently at Bilbo, love burning in his eyes.

"So," Thorin continued not breaking eye contact with Bilbo. "I set him to a task I figured he had no way of completing. It was a horrible day. There was rain and wind. Lighting a fire in that would have been a challenge for any of us. I _knew_ there was no way that Bilbo could do it. I figured that the rain and misery of it all on top of the disappointment of failing would turn him home. I was wrong."

"He didn't go home when he failed?" Frodo asked knowing the answer since Bilbo had completed the quest. When it became clear that Thorin was not going to continue the story, Balin picked up the thread.

"He didn't fail," Balin said proudly. "Remember what I told you about hobbit brains?" Frodo nodded in reply. "He thought his way through it."

"But how?" Frodo asked. "If it was raining and there was wind enough that you didn't think _dwarves_ could get a fire going how did Bilbo accomplish it?"

"Through the help of my brother," Bofur replied with a laugh. "You've never met him, but Bombur is and was exceptionally fat for a dwarf. Bilbo convinced him that it would be worth it if he would stand as a windbreak until Bilbo could get a fire going that could withstand it."

"But how did that make up for the wet wood?" Frodo knew how hard it was to light a fire in less than ideal conditions since Bilbo had insisted he learn. Why? He didn't know but he hadn't argued with him. Bilbo had spent far too much time with dwarves and their stubbornness had rubbed off on him.

"I may have helped with that," Bofur said sheepishly. Thorin looked up in surprise. He had never heard this part of the tale before. Had Bofur actually lit the fire that night?

"Now don't look at me like that," Bofur said wagging a finger at Thorin. The ex-king raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. "I didn't light it. All I did was sacrifice a bit of the ale."

"Ale doesn't burn!" Frodo insisted. He hadn't tried, but he couldn't see where it would. It was a liquid, and liquids didn't burn.

"Dwarven ale does," Bilbo insisted. "That stuff is not fit to drink, but as a fluid to light a fire . . . it is perfect." He ignored the protests of the dwarves as to the drinkability of dwarven ale and continued. "It burned just hot enough just long enough for the wood to catch. So we had a warm meal."

"But how does that—"

"After he had the fire blazing," Bofur said cutting Frodo off. "I _may_ have said that he had done a fairly good job on it for a creature that didn't have a beard."

"No," Bilbo replied with a laugh, "Your exact words were "Not half bad, hobbit. Too bad about the fact that you can't grow a beard half as well as you light a fire," if memory serves. It was Fíli who—" Bilbo cut himself off at the memory of the laughter of Thorin's nephews. He hadn't meant to bring them up. He knew that Thorin had to miss them terribly. If anything ever happened to Frodo . . . and he wasn't even Bilbo's real nephew.

"Fíli said that you had done a better job than Kíli could," Thorin continued a sad, fond smile on his face as he remembered the way that Fíli's eyes had lit with mischief and Kíli's with anger before he had replied. "and Kíli replied that even if he couldn't light a fire at least he could grow a beard. Which set the two of them off on the fact that Kíli didn't yet have a full beard which Kíli _swore_ he someday would. Said it would shame his brother's." He swallowed hard at the reminded that his youngest nephew had never been able to fulfill that threat. And it had been his fault. He looked up when Bilbo placed a hand on his arm. The hobbit was looking at him with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said quietly. "I shouldn't have—"

"No," Thorin said shaking his head. "They were strong lads and good friends. There is no reason that we should not talk of them. To forget them would be to shame their memory." Bilbo nodded but said nothing. No one did for a time and the only sound in the kitchen was that of Balin stirring the food. Even though no one had declared it as such it was a moment of silence for what those they had lost on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

Eventually it was Frodo who tentatively broke the silence. "Um . . . I have a question," he said. When the only glances he got were those of curiosity rather than hostility he continued. "Why is Uncle Bilbo so reluctant to let you do the dishes?" His only reply was a chorus of laugher from the dwarves and an anxious chuckle from Bilbo.

"We'll show you later," Bofur promised with a grin that Frodo didn't like in the least. Frodo looked anxiously at Bilbo. He wouldn't let them do anything _too_ dangerous, right?

"Just remember, Frodo my lad, you asked for this," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "The dwarves have a very . . . _peculiar_ idea of what it means to "do the dishes"."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Sorry about that bit at the end . . . I have no idea why I have been so depressing lately . . . I swear I have been in a fairly good mood lately. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it despite my apparent efforts to spread misery. Hopefully I have gotten it out of my system now . . . **

**As always, thank you for everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add this story to your alerts of favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**Well, that's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you think (even if you hated it or me) so leave me a review if you have the time and/or inclination. **

**Stickdonkeys**


	10. Chapter 10

Lunch was an uneventful affair. The dwarves and Bilbo traded stories from the quest as Frodo listened eagerly and they all ate. It all sounded like fun to Frodo and with every story they told of a prank someone had pulled or some scrape that they had gotten out of in one piece Frodo felt his desire for an adventure like Bilbo's grow. What he didn't realize was that they were _purposefully _sticking to the pleasant memories. There had been enough anger and sadness in Bag End without them summoning it unnecessarily. But eventually it summoned itself.

"It sounds like you all had fun on your quest," Frodo said with a smile on his face. Thorin could see the wonder that had grown in the eyes of the younger hobbit and knew that he needed to know that adventures were not all nights spent pleasantly around a campfire or walks along gentle paths with friends. They were hard, cold, bitter things. He only wished that he could have convinced other young, eager things of the same.

"It was not all fun," Thorin said sadly. "What they haven't told you of were all the nights when we were forced to sleep in the rain. Or worse, the nights we got no sleep at all because there were enemies too near. They didn't tell you of the sleepless night we spent as the prisoners of goblins. Or of the feeling of the flames licking at our flesh as we climbed the trees to escape the wargs and goblins. They didn't tell you how it feels to know that you _will_ die and that nothing you can do will stop it only to be saved at the last moment. They didn't tell you of the fear and uncertainty that comes from knowing that any moment can be your last, of being _trapped_ in a cell as valuable time is lost. To watch as . . . "

"No," Thorin said shaking his head and glaring at the hobbit, though Frodo could not have known what he had done to upset the dwarf. "The quest was _not_ fun. There were light moments, yes, but overall it was not _fun_." Bilbo gently placed his hand on the dwarf's clinched fist. He understood what Thorin was trying to do, but what harm was there really in letting the boy believe quests were fun. He would never have one of his own.

"I'm sorry," Thorin said looking at Frodo, who was crestfallen at what Thorin had said to him. "You had no way of knowing. I should not have been harsh with you. It's just that—"

"I understand," Frodo replied looking up at the dwarf, tears in his blue eyes. "I did a little reading while you were gone. I saw a dwarven genealogy that Bilbo had. I know what happened. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . I didn't mean to make light of your loss. I'm sorry." Thorin nodded in acceptance of Frodo's condolences while Bilbo searched for a way to break the tension. He found it in Dwalin, who had just stood with a stack of dishes that he intended to take to the sink.

"Dwalin," Bilbo called suddenly. "Catch!" Dwalin turned at his name and quickly cleared a hand to catch the plate that Bilbo frisbeed at him.

"Oh no, lad!" Balin called. "That's not how this is done! It's not a game if you warn him that it is coming first!" and without any more warning than that, Balin threw a plate at Bofur who snatched it from the air as though he had known that it was coming.

"You call that the element of surprise?" Bofur taunted Balin. "Perhaps you are getting too old for this game!"

Suddenly Balin caught a plate that had come from his brother. "Scrape that off better," Dwalin ordered. "If I'm to wash them I want them cleaner than that! Won't do to have the dishwater dirtied before its time by improper scraping. This is a sink, not a river."

"He always was a perfectionist," Balin sighed glancing at Frodo before he tossed the plate to Bilbo, who caught it with much less dexterity than the dwarves had. "You threw him that one. You clean it up," he told Bilbo before he scraped his own plate and threw it to Dwalin.

"What are they doing?" Frodo asked as Dwalin threw a wet plate to Bofur who dried it with a towel before tossing it to Thorin, who raised an eyebrow at being included but stacked it next to him all the same.

"The dishes," Bilbo answered with a laugh, throwing the now-scraped plate back to Dwalin who managed a rather spectacular catch involving a tankard that Thorin had thrown at the same time being knocked with his elbow to land on the plate Bilbo had thrown.

"But . . . is this necessary?" Frodo asked instinctively ducking a plate that flew over his head despite the fact that it was high enough it wouldn't have hit him.

"No," Bofur replied with a cheeky grin to the younger hobbit while catching a cup thrown to him by Dwalin without looking. "But it is fun."

"How do hobbits wash dishes?" Balin asked, lobbing a fork at his brother's head. He knew the answer, having watched Bilbo wash dishes methodically in the streams they encountered during the quest. Hobbits were overly careful with dishes, even when they were nearly indestructible questing dishes.

"Well," Frodo replied not realizing that it was a rhetorical question. "We tend to pass them from hand to hand, not through the air."

"Now that's no fun," Thorin said with a grin as he caught the now-dry cup from Bofur. He hadn't been included the first time and was surprised by how nice it felt to be included in things once again. Perhaps there were perks to not being a king.

"Perhaps not!" Frodo replied with a little shriek as a knife passed uncomfortably close to his nose before being caught by Dwalin. "But there is much less risk for injury."

"You only say that because you aren't participating," Bilbo said patting his nephew on the back. "Go on! Toss something to a dwarf, any dwarf." Frodo shifted uncomfortably but tossed the dinner roll that had landed on the table to Thorin, who was the closest to the bin. It was a rather pathetic toss and barely made it to the dwarf, though they were only a few feet apart.

"A roll?" Thorin asked raising an eyebrow. "You tossed me a roll? I think this was meant for you, Balin, since you are in charge of left-over food."

"Nah," Balin replied with a laugh. "He gave it to you. Perhaps it was a present. You are getting rather thin." Rather than respond, Thorin threw the roll at the white-headed dwarf's head. His lips quirked in slight disappointment when Balin caught it. But he was avenged, somewhat, when Balin—who was preoccupied with leveling a glance at Thorin—did not see the plate that Bilbo tossed him and it hit him in the forehead. He managed to catch it before it shattered on the ground, but it left a slight red mark on his forehead.

"Oh my!" Bilbo exclaimed standing to go to the dwarf he had just conked in the head with a plate. "I'm sorry! I thought you would see it!" But Balin only waved him off and threw a barrage of dishes at his brother in an attempt to get one past Dwalin, who caught them all and threw his own barrage at Bofur.

"All part of the game, laddie," Balin replied with a grin. "But we can't have you winning, now can we? A _hobbit_ winning over dwarves, no that won't do at all."

"No," Bofur agreed as he caught all the dishes with ease despite them being wet and slippery. "We will have to increase the pace of this game if we are to beat Bilbo's record of one plate to Balin's head."

"It's a contest!?" Frodo asked edging out of the way as the tosses began to get more spectacular and the objects thrown with more speed and intensity.

"My dear boy," Bilbo said with a laugh tossing a plate at Balin and intercepting a glass that was intended for Thorin, "everything the dwarves do is a contest. Is there money on this one, lads?"

"No," Dwalin replied with a laugh of his own. "We forgot to place wagers on who would win this time."

"That's too bad," Thorin said just as he managed to peg both Dwalin and Bofur with plates. As he was the end of the chain neither of them had been expecting them to come from him. "I fear that I may be broke."

"I'm not," Bilbo replied with a smile. "You can spend the rest of your days as a kept dwarf."

"Ah, now, Bilbo, don't make promises you cannot keep," Thorin said with a smile. "Remember I was once a king. I might have rather expensive tastes."

"A king that lived as a blacksmith," Bilbo replied tossing the glass he had caught only moments before to Thorin. "You will get by on whatever I can provide. I'm sure of it. Gold goes a rather long way here in the Shire."

"That was cheating," Balin said to Bilbo. "If you aren't going to even _try_ to hit him with it you shouldn't throw it."

"Who says I wasn't trying?" Bilbo insisted with a laugh. "Hobbits do not throw nearly as hard as dwarves."

"Tell that to my forehead," Balin grumbled before tossing the last dish to his brother. The last of the clean dishes were tossed to Bofur and then to Thorin and then it was calm in the kitchen again save for the laughter that was still in the air.

"So what is the final count?" Dwalin asked sitting down once more.

"I have one for Bilbo, and two each for Balin and Thorin," Bofur said attempting to tally it in his head. "Anyone disagree?" They all shook their heads. Those who had kept count had the same tally, and those who hadn't couldn't disagree.

"So who won?" Frodo asked peeking back out from behind the doorpost now that nothing was flying through the air.

"I did," Both Balin and Thorin said at the same time before they began to debate their positions, Balin claiming that it was more impressive that he had hit Dwalin twice while Thorin argued that it was more impressive to have hit both Dwalin and Bofur at the same time.

"I think we need a rematch," Thorin said, his eyes alight with mischief. "We can settle this after dinner."

"What?" Frodo asked. "This wasn't a one-time thing? You lot do this at _every_ meal?"

"Not _every_ meal, no," Bofur replied with a shrug. "Only meals that require dishes." At the look of horror on his nephew's face at the prospect of a meal that didn't require dishes Bilbo decided it was time to intervene.

"But don't worry, Frodo my lad, they will not be washing the dishes after dinner," Bilbo said with a gentle smile. Frodo sighed in relief. He wasn't sure that he could stand more flying dining utensils. "Since you didn't participate _you _will wash up the dinner dishes," Bilbo continued to the laughter of the rest of the company. Frodo only nodded. It seemed like a fair enough arrangement to him.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Once everything was safely stowed away in the cupboard, everyone settled in to spend the afternoon in peaceful pursuits. Bofur and Balin settled themselves down at Bilbo's table to begin making plans for the settlement—after borrowing a map of the Shire from Bilbo—while the rest of the group moved outside. Bilbo wanted to have his afternoon smoke in the garden and Thorin wanted to be with Bilbo, while Dwalin wanted to be outside for a bit and Frodo followed because he was fascinated by the axe that Dwalin carried to the garden with him.

"Is that really necessary?" Bilbo asked with a laugh as the large dwarf settled himself on the front stoop and began cleaning and sharpening his axe.

"Proper weapons care is _always_ necessary," Dwalin replied with a smile. "When was the last time you even _looked _at your sword?"

"Well . . . that is to say . . . "Bilbo began uncomfortably. In truth he hadn't looked at the sword since he returned from his adventure, but he couldn't just _tell_ Dwalin that.

"You have a sword?" Frodo asked. He had never seen it!

"That answers _that_," Dwalin laughed. "It's been more than twelve years then. Do you even know where it is?"

"Of course I know!" Bilbo replied. "It's wrapped in an oil cloth at the bottom of the chest in my bedroom. If you must know."

"And how long has it been there?" Thorin asked. He was a bit amused and a bit exasperated. He knew that Bilbo knew proper weapons care. He also knew that his little elvish blade would have suffered no harm in that time. It had survived Mahal only knew how long in a Troll Hovel. Twelve years—or even sixty—wrapped in an oilcloth would do no damage to it.

"Sixty years," Bilbo replied sheepishly. "I-I'll just go get it, shall I?" As he shuffled nervously to the door, the two dwarves in the garden began to laugh. That was more like the Bilbo they knew!

"Speaking of swords," Thorin said suddenly. "I seem to be without one. Is there a blacksmith in this town?"

"Yes," Frodo replied warily. "However I don't think he knows how to make swords. Not a lot of demand for that here. But if you needed a plow or a doorknob . . ."

"He has a forge, does he not?" Thorin asked lifting his eyebrow at the hobbit's suggestion that a plow or a doorknob was in any way a replacement for a sword.

"Yes," Frodo replied. "There's a forge. But I don't see how—"

He was cut off a Bilbo returned and dropped his sword unceremoniously into Dwalin's lap. "There," he said with a smug smile. "Check it yourself. Not a spot of rust on it." Dwalin snorted but unsheathed the sword and looked it over.

"Not bad," Dwalin replied. "Not very sharp, but not bad."

"It is more than sharp enough!" Bilbo replied with mock indignation.

"Perhaps to serve as a letter-opener," Dwalin replied. "But as a weapon . . . Frodo, come sit by me and we'll show your uncle how to _properly_ sharpen a sword." Frodo scrambled over to sit beside Dwalin and carefully took both the sword and the whetstone and watched in awe as Dwalin showed him how to care for a sword.

"'Properly sharpen a sword' indeed!" Bilbo muttered good-naturedly as he seated himself against Thorin once more.

"It is a good skill to have," Thorin offered smiling at the way his hobbit snuggled into his side.

"Not for a hobbit," Bilbo muttered. "When will the lad ever need to sharpen a sword?" In response Thorin only shrugged. He couldn't see where Frodo would ever need the skill, but there was no harm in acquiring it anyway.

"You needed to," Thorin reminded him quietly. "And as you continually reminded us, before we came along you were an altogether normal hobbit. He will most likely be exposed to more dwarves that you were. He may need it someday."

"I sincerely hope not," Bilbo sighed as he leaned against Thorin.

"So do I," Thorin replied watching the way that Frodo smiled up at Dwalin. He knew that an adventure could take that smile from him as it had Bilbo and himself. "Speaking of things that it would be good to have even if they are never used, I would like to acquire a sword."

"Where do you intend to acquire this sword?" Bilbo asked casually. He had no objection to Thorin having a sword, but he didn't want to let him leave long enough to have one made the nearest place with a capable blacksmith would probably be Bree or more likely the Blue Mountains. "We have a blacksmith but—"

"I know," Thorin said. "Frodo told me. I intended to offer my services to work off the supplies and time that I would need. I doubt he will deny me."

"A dwarven blacksmith in the Hobbiton?" Bilbo asked with a laugh. "Of course he won't deny you! Once word spreads, his will be the busiest forge in the Shire."

"I thought as much," Thorin replied with a smile. "Dwarven smiths were very much in demand sixty years ago. I made a decent living at it. Can you show me where it is?"

"Of course," Bilbo replied standing and offering the dwarf his hand with a smile. "I've always wanted to know how swords are made."

"If he lets us in it will be unbearably hot in the forge," Thorin warned. "Blacksmith work is not a comfortable trade."

"I would still watch, if you will allow me to," Bilbo said with a nervous grin. "I know that dwarves keep their secrets closely guarded. If you would prefer that I remain here. . . "

"My dear hobbit," Thorin replied pulling him into a hug. "I would keep no secrets from you." Bilbo felt a smile split his face as he stood on his toes to brush his lips against Thorin's. He sighed as Thorin bent and deepened the kiss.

"Must you do that here?" Dwalin asked with a laugh. "There are rooms just inside that would offer you privacy. The lad and I just ate." Bilbo didn't pause in his kissing but made a rather obscene hand gesture in Dwalin's general direction that he had learned from Bofur. Dwalin laughed, both at the gesture and the color that Frodo's face had taken on.

"Let's have mercy on the lad," Thorin whispered against Bilbo's lips. "At least let him get used to the idea first."

"If we must," Bilbo replied breaking the kiss but not releasing the dwarf. Dwalin had a smirk on his face and Frodo was decidedly green. "Sorry," Bilbo offered sheepishly. He hadn't thought about how Frodo would feel about seeing the two of them expressing their affection.

"We have an errand we need to run," Thorin announced. "We will return when we can." It was everything that Dwalin could do to resist the urge to make a snide comment about what that errand might be, but he did manage to resist it.

"We'll be here," he said instead. "And your house will be in one piece."

"It had better," Bilbo replied with a mock glare.

"Where are you going?" Frodo asked, feeling mildly alarmed at being left alone for an indeterminate amount of time with the dwarves. They were nice enough, but he wasn't sure that he could keep them from destroying the house if it came down to it.

"Don't worry about it," Bilbo replied. "We'll be back."

"But—" Dwalin leaned down and whispered something in Frodo's ear that caused his eyes to go wide before he gave a small squeak and they fluttered as he passed out. Thorin leveled a glare at the warrior.

"What?" Dwalin asked with a shrug. "I only told him what you _might_ be going to do involved swords. It's not my fault if he took it the wrong way." Thorin didn't look convinced, but Bilbo wasn't offended or angry so he let it go and allowed Bilbo to lead him down the path back into town.

Once they were gone, Dwalin stood and poked his head in the door. "Mark me down for one more," he called to his brother and Bofur. "I pulled it off again. And I should actually get two; I did it right under Bilbo and Thorin's noses without angering either of them!"

"Only good for one," Bofur replied absently. "Only one hobbit fainted. Kudos on the other part though."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. Sorry about the lateness of this. I've been sick lately and fever writing tends to be weird. . . I blame some of this on that. I hope you enjoyed it**

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read this and thank you to those of you who have taken the time to add this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	11. Chapter 11

Had Bilbo thought more carefully about it, he would probably have taken a less direct path to the forge. It couldn't _possibly_ have taken longer. As it was, he had led Thorin by the most direct path out of habit: a path that took them right through the market. The market where the two of them had been _mobbed_ by hobbits. At first, Bilbo had been nervous, but all the hobbits had wanted to do was ask questions. It seemed that Bilbo and one dwarf were much less intimidating that Bilbo and _four_ dwarves had been. Bilbo almost wished that they _were_ still intimidated. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic . . . and vaguely jealous as he saw the gentle smiles that Thorin was giving to the other hobbits.

Thorin, however, was not feeling claustrophobic in the least. The hobbits were leaving a respectable space between them and were showing no signs of aggression. He wasn't sure why they were so interested in him when they had seemed afraid of the others, but it pleased him because—despite Bilbo's insistence that hobbits would not tolerate dwarves in the Shire—it showed that they were willing to tolerate dwarves—if the dwarves in question behaved themselves. What did worry him was the tension that he could feel radiating from Bilbo. He had seen it before. He could still remember the reaction that the company had elicited from the hobbit when they had crowded around him too closely one night at dinner.

_They had been intrigued by his curly hair, his bare feet and his pointed ears and had surrounded him, more than one dwarf touching the hobbit and all of them looking at him as though he had two heads. It had been early in the quest and Thorin had seen that they were angering the hobbit but hadn't felt that he needed to put a stop to it. He had felt that Bilbo either needed to stand up for himself or go home. _

_And stand up for himself Bilbo had! He had made quite a scene; standing up to his full—and rather unimpressive—height with his hands on his hips and murder burning in his eyes. _

"_I beg your pardon!" Bilbo had snapped as he knocked away the hands that were still on him despite him having moved. "I will not abide by this! I am a hobbit! Not a pet! I will thank you all to keep your hands to yourselves!" Thorin had smiled at the chagrinned looks on the faces of the others as they muttered apologies and sidled away from him. He had never figured the hobbit capable of cowing a group of dwarves. That was the first time that he felt the first stirrings of feelings for the smallest member of their company and had wondered if the hobbit would protest if __he__ decided not to keep his hands to himself._

Even though no one was touching him this time, Thorin feared that Bilbo was about to make another scene and figured that it would be better to extract them from the situation before it happened. Especially with the strange way the hobbit had been behaving lately. With Bilbo's strange rages even _he_ wasn't sure what Bilbo would do if provoked.

"I'm very sorry," Thorin said suddenly cutting off a hobbit's question with a soft smile. "We really must continue our journey. I have urgent business I must take care before nightfall." Rather than be offended, the hobbits cleared a path in the direction Thorin and Bilbo had been traveling before they were mobbed and apologized for delaying them.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the residents of Hobbiton began to gossip once more. Hobbits love gossip, and _true_ gossip is even more of a draw. Especially when the true gossip has a mystery attached that can give rise to speculation. Even though they now knew the name of the polite dwarf, his name told them next to nothing about him _or_ his relationship with Bilbo. It was in the last areas that speculation abounded. Strangely enough, the suggestions that got rejected as being _too_ far-fetched (that Thorin Oakenshield was well-mannered because he was some form of dwarven royalty, and that he and Bilbo were more than just friends) were the ones that were the truth.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Once they had cleared the crowd, it was clear to Thorin that Bilbo was still seething. Thorin didn't understand it. It had only been a small delay. They would still make it to the forge in time for him to speak with the smith and perhaps even start work. And even if they did not, it was not a particularly urgent errand—despite what he had told the hobbits—he didn't necessarily _need_ a sword as long as they were in the Shire. Perhaps Bilbo was upset because he thought that Thorin was.

"They were rather friendly," Thorin said warmly trying to show Bilbo that he didn't care. "I thought you said that hobbits would not tolerate dwarves in the Shire. They seem to like me well enough." Bilbo said nothing but only harrumphed in response and kept walking without looking at Thorin.

"It was only a small delay," Thorin said trying again. "They were just curious. Understandably so." Bilbo glared at him and muttered something else that he couldn't hear.

"Why are you upset?" Thorin finally asked, figuring that a direct route would be better. Bilbo had always been a little passive aggressive and would only reveal what bothered him when he built up enough pressure to explode or when challenged directly.

"You ask as though you don't know," Bilbo snarled.

"I don't!" Thorin replied sharply. "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked." He wasn't sure how many more of Bilbo's mood swings he could handle. He loved the hobbit very much, but he was not accustomed to coddling people for fear of their responses. And all of Bilbo's yelling was starting to grate on his nerves. He knew that he deserved some of the hobbit's anger, but he had done nothing this time to merit this attitude.

"It was you!" Bilbo snapped whirling suddenly to face Thorin, that same strange light in his eyes that had been there earlier. "You didn't have to be so _nice_ as you answered their questions!"

"What would you have me do?" Thorin asked his voice growing loud while he gestured animatedly. He did not want to argue with Bilbo but if the hobbit wanted an argument that was what he would get. Thorin had no intention of allowing Bilbo to level baseless accusations. "Should I have snapped at them? Been rude? Snubbed them entirely?"

"You did me when we first met," Bilbo snapped glaring up at the dwarf.

"That was an entirely different circumstance!" Thorin snapped in reply. "I was about to take you into the wilds! Not talking with you in the market! I feared that bringing you along would not only lead to your death but to the death of us all. There is a steep learning curve in quests. You either live or you die by the decisions that you make. That was _not_ the time for kindness and introductions!"

"And," Thorin added, "If you remember, I did not treat you that much differently than anyone on the quest. Not even my own kin. Everyone was subject to the same treatment. I was a little preoccupied with keeping us _alive_ to observe niceties."

"There is a fine line between niceties and what you were just doing!" Bilbo snapped the implications clear in the words and tone. Bilbo thought that Thorin had been _flirting_ with the other hobbits! What a ludicrous idea! Bilbo was jealous. If the situation had been less explosive, Thorin would have been amused. Bilbo had never shown even the faintest hint of jealousy before and the dwarf hadn't been aware that the hobbit had it in him. As it was . . .

"You've lost your mind," Thorin said his voice a horrified whisper, his anger fading and concern taking its place. He realized quickly that the words were true. He could see the madness in Bilbo's eyes that had once been in his grandfather's—though the source was different. That was why that strange light unhinged him so. He recognized the first stirrings of madness.

"What?" Bilbo asked, the madness fading slightly to be replaced by confusion. What as Thorin talking about. He placed his head in his hands and thought about it carefully. As suddenly as the anger had come on, it faded. With a sudden rush of clarity, he realized that he was being unreasonable. Thorin had behaved just as he should have in the situation they were in. The dwarves would need the goodwill of the hobbits and Thorin could get it for them. He had done nothing wrong, nor had the others. The fault had been Bilbo's. Why had he gotten so upset over nothing? He looked back up at Thorin.

The lost look in Bilbo's eyes nearly broke the dwarf. He was so confused, and underneath the confusion was fear. But at least the madness was gone, for now. Thorin couldn't resist the urge to pull Bilbo into his arms, though he knew that the hobbit had issues with public displays of affection. He leaned down and buried his face in Bilbo's downy curls, stroking the back of his head. He had no idea what he could do to help Bilbo with this. He felt helpless.

"Thorin," Bilbo began, his voice soft and just as lost as his eyes, "what's wrong with me?" The question had been a rhetorical one. He didn't think that his lover would actually know the answer. Even though Thorin knew the answer, he didn't disclose it. He couldn't bear to be the one to tell the hobbit that he was going insane but neither could he bring himself to lie to him and say that nothing was wrong. Instead, he tightened his hold on the hobbit and held him there, in the middle of the road until his sobs subsided.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Eventually, Bilbo's sobs quieted. But the time they had, there was no sign on Thorin's face of the pain that he felt at what Bilbo was going through. Neither of them said a word about what had just taken place, but rather continued their trip to the forge.

When they arrived, the forge was silent, though the fire was still lit and unbanked. The smith was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello," Thorin called, poking his head into the doorway. "Is there anyone here?"

"Hello!" came the call from the other side of a closed door. It opened to reveal the burliest hobbit that Thorin had ever seen. There was no roundness to his figure and he actually had muscles. It was a strange sight.

"Sorry. I was enjoying my lunch. What can I do for you, Master Dwarf?" the smith asked, a warm smile on his face that crinkled the heat creased skin around his hazel eyes.

"I find myself in need of a good sword, Master Smith," Thorin replied with a smile. He felt his own smile fall slightly as the smith's face took on a pained expression.

"I'm afraid that I can't help you," the smith replied, regret apparent in his tone. He knew that it was rare for dwarves to be in the Shire, but when they were . . . they paid well for good service and he prided himself on his work as a smith. But a sword . . . that was beyond his ability.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance to you," Thorin said gently.

"How so?" the hobbit asked suspicion in his eyes. He had no idea what the dwarf intended to offer him.

"I will offer my services to you, if you have need of them, and in exchange all I ask is the supplies and time that I will need to forge a sword for myself, " Thorin explained. "Do you find these terms agreeable?"

"So," the hobbit said slowly as he tried to think through what had just been said. "You will work for me and all you ask is that I allow you the time and materials to forge a sword?"

"Yes," Thorin agreed with a nod. "What say you?"

"What say I?" The hobbit crowed delight in his eyes. "Master Dwarf, your terms are more that agreeable! To think, a dwarven smith in my forge!" Thorin smiled at his enthusiasm and nodded his head.

"In that case, I'll get started on whatever you need me to do, shall I?" Thorin asked. The hobbit nodded eagerly and led Thoirn and Bilbo into the forge, showing Thorin where he kept all the materials of the trade. Thorin looked around with a critical, practiced eye and realized that despite his limited skills the hobbit did have a good set-up and many fine things could be made here. He nodded his approval and saw the smith's eyes light up in delight at the praise.

"Where would you like me to start?" Thorin asked as he removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin had been right. It was unbelievably hot in the forge once Thoirn got it going once more. Bilbo had had to step outside repeatedly to cool off. And during all of his breaks, the dwarf had worked tirelessly on mundane things: broken pots, new hinges, spokes for a cart. Even so, Bilbo couldn't help but be intrigued. For some reason, his mind had never been able to reconcile the competing images he had of Thorin: that of the proud leader and king and that of the simple blacksmith. But now he realized that there was nothing to reconcile. They were one and the same. Even as a blacksmith, Thorin dominated the room and commanded order. True in one case he was commanding the compliance of people and in the other metal, but he faced both tasks with the same calm determination. And in both cases, Thorin was a sight to behold.

Even though he had seen Thorin completely naked more times than he could count on one hand, and seen him dressed in finery, something about the sight of his ex-lover wearing nothing more than his undershirt and pants with his skin sheened with sweat was almost more arousing than seeing him completely nude had been. It could have had something to do with the look of pure focus in his eyes as he shaped the metal to his meet his desires.

He had also finally learned something that had bothered him for the entirety of their acquaintance: the purpose of the braids under his hair beside his face. Bilbo had always wondered why Thorin had braids there, they didn't seem to have any purpose and weren't particularly intricate. But now he knew. Before he had begun working, Thorin had gathered up his long hair and used the two braids to tie it back from his face. Bilbo had never seen his hair pulled back before and despite the strangeness of it—or perhaps because of it—Bilbo couldn't seem to quit watching him. Even now that he had been watching for the better part of the afternoon, Bilbo found that he could not tear his eyes from the dwarf.

Thorin tried to focus only on his work. He had quickly learned that what he had told Bilbo was true. Now that there was no one forcing him to do it, he found that he truly enjoyed working as a smith. There was something rewarding about seeing something broken or formless come into being something useful under his hands. The steady rhythm of the hammer. He found it soothing almost. But despite the allure of the forge, it paled in comparison to the allure of his hobbit's heated gaze on him. The flush on his face had more to do with desire than the heat rising from the forge. He could feel Bilbo watching him and as he paused to allow the metal to reheat or cool as needed, he snuck glances at the hobbit, surprised at the wonder and lust that burned in his eyes.

He was sure of only one thing: if Bilbo did not stop looking at him that way, things might escalate at a rate that Bilbo might just be unprepared for. Especially since he would be done with work shortly. The pot in his hands was the last thing that the Smith had asked him to do and there were lots of dark, secluded corners between the forge and Bag End. And if he remembered correctly—which he did—Bilbo had no objection to making love under the stars.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well, there we are for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it! **

**As always, thank you for taking the time to read it and thank you to those of you who have added this story to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed!**

**Well, ****that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	12. Chapter 12

Even though it seemed like it took an eternity to Thorin, he did eventually finish the pot in his hands. It seemed to have taken longer than it should have, but that could have been because Bilbo's heated gaze was still making it difficult for him to concentrate on shaping the metal as he imagined something entire different being worked under his hands on that anvil. But eventually he managed it.

When the sound of the hammer stopped for more than a few moments, the smith came out of the adjoining room where he had retired to give Thorin privacy to work. He knew that dwarves jealously guarded their trade secrets and was more than willing to surrender control of his forge knowing that having a dwarf working there would bring more than enough monetary compensation to make up for that small indignity. He was shocked to see that Bilbo was still there, and had clearly been permitted to watch as the dwarf worked.

He knew that Bilbo had disappeared for a year sixty years ago and that dwarves were rumored to have been involved, but he hadn't realized that Bilbo was close enough to them that they would let him observe them at work. It boggled his mind. As did the flush across both Bilbo and the dwarf's faces. As far as forges went, it wasn't that bad in there. It was a cool day and there was a bit of a breeze. It made no sense that the _dwarf_ would be flushed.

The smith cautiously approached the pile of objects Thorin had completed. He wanted to inspect the workmanship but didn't want to risk insulting the dwarf. He knew that they were a proud race and worried that it would be seen as offensive that he wanted to look. He hated to think that he might drive the dwarf to another forge. But rather than be insulted, Thorin gestured with a hand at the pile and nodded with a smile on his face.

Thorin had no objection to the smith checking his work. It had been done well and would pass any inspection. Even so, he would have expected no less. As he was working for the hobbit, any flaws in his work would reflect poorly on the smithy and would result in a loss of business. It was not out of distrust that the hobbit checked, or any hostility. It was simply self-preservation.

But the hobbit need not have feared. All of the work was flawless, the places where the two metals met nearly invisible. The dwarf had known what he was doing and his work reflected the knowledge.

"This was well done, Master Dwarf," the smith said with a smile as he held a pot aloft.

"Thank you," Thorin replied with a slight bow. "I've had much practice with iron." The hobbit smith nodded. Thorin's practice was apparent. "Is there anything else you wish for me to do today?"

"No," the hobbit replied with a shake of his head. "I have nothing else to do. This was all of the work for the day. If you would be willing to return after lunch tomorrow I will have found more work for you."

"I will return, Master . . . " Thorin gestured for a name. It would be more polite than continuing to call the hobbit 'smith' and it appeared that they would be working together for some time. It was truly an agreeable set-up. With Thorin coming after lunch, the hobbit would work the forge in the morning and Thorin would take over until dark.

"Tom," the hobbit supplied. "May I have your name as well or do you wish to continue to be known only as 'Master Dwarf'?"

"Thorin Oakenshield," the dwarf replied with a bow, "at your service."

"Master Thorin, then," Tom said with a smile and a small bow of his own. "For tonight, I will bid you farewell."

"Farewell until tomorrow, Master Tom," Thorin replied before gathering up his outer layers and replacing them before following Bilbo into the rapidly dimming evening.

They had only gone a short ways from the forge when Bilbo's hand brushed his. He glanced down at the hobbit and saw him looking coyly up at him through his curly bangs. The desire Thorin had seen earlier still burnt in his hazel eyes and caused an uncomfortable tightness to coil within the dwarf's stomach. This needed to be dealt with. Soon.

They continued back towards town, Thorin's eyes scanning for a suitable place to waylay the hobbit where there was the least chance of them being caught or interrupted. Suddenly a suitable alleyway came into sight. Glancing around quickly to make sure that there was no one around, Thorin grabbed the hobbit by the upper arm and drug him into the darkness. Bilbo looked at him with wide, surprised eyes as Thorin pinned him to the wooden wall of one of the buildings.

"Thorin, what—" Bilbo had time to ask before Thorin's lips were on his. The kiss a nearly aggressive declaration of desire and intent.

"Do you have _any_ idea how difficult it was for me to focus on my work today?" Thorin growled before beginning to kiss and nip his way down Bilbo's neck. The hobbit panted at the unexpected attention and tipped his head back to allow the dwarf better access.

"It couldn't have been that difficult," Bilbo panted out as his throat worked convulsively trying to keep his own desire at bay. Thorin couldn't mean to . . . not _here_. "You-you managed it well enough."

"It took every ounce of self-control that I possess not to bend you over the anvil and take you right there. Hobbit sensibilities be damned," Thorin growled as he began to unbutton Bilbo's shirt and waistcoat. Thorin _did_ intend for it to be there and only the right—or wrong—words from Bilbo would be able to stop him.

Despite himself, Bilbo found that mental image extremely arousing. He had never been one for public displays of affection, not really, and had _never_ dreamed of exhibitionism, but the thought of Thorin claiming him in such a public fashion—in the Shire, of all places—had his mind wandering and him gasping for air. He could only imagine the look on the smith's face if Thorin had done it. It would have been priceless. True, they never could have left Bag End again, not after something like _that_ but it would have been worth it.

"Why didn't you?" Bilbo asked breathless at the scenario his mind had conjured up—or it could have been the unadulterated lust in Thorin's blue eyes.

"I didn't want to scandalize the neighborhood," Thorin said, the pad of his thumb stroking Bilbo's face and his voice little more than a purr. "And I _assure_ you, the entire neighborhood would have heard us. As it is, unless you tell me to stop, they still may because I will take you right here against this wall." The decidedly predatory smile on his face only served to excite Bilbo all the more.

Bilbo said nothing but instead pulled Thorin down into a searing kiss that left them both floored at the desire that was evident in it. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but something filled with want and longing so pure that it shredded the last vestige of restraint that Thorin had been clinging to. With a growl, his hands slid under Bilbo's shirt, popping the last remaining buttons, before he removed both it and the hobbit's jacket in one movement and dropped them unceremoniously to the ground.

**oo*O.O*88*O.O*oo**

Some time later, they stood motionless, both enjoying the closeness that comes after such an intimate encounter. Eventually, with a pleased and sated sound in his throat Bilbo turned slightly and placed his cheek against Thorin's warm chest. The dwarf gasped at the movement, but smiled and released Bilbo's hands—which he had still had pinned to the wall—and used the hand that wasn't wrapped around the hobbit's waist to stroke the side of his face.

"I needed that," Bilbo sighed contentedly. Thorin laughed quietly in response.

"I think we _both_ needed that," Thorin replied before slowly moving away from Bilbo and beginning to rearrange his own clothing while Bilbo saw to his.

"Do you intend to repair this?" Thorin asked with a smirk as he showed Bilbo the rend in his undershirt that the hobbit had created while ripping his clothes from him.

"Only if you intend to re-sew the buttons _you_ popped off," Bilbo replied with a smirk of his own, wincing slightly as he bent to retrieve his trousers. That was one thing that he had forgotten: the soreness that occasionally followed an unexpected coupling.

"I hurt you," Thorin said, sadness in his voice.

"No," Bilbo replied automatically. He shifted uncomfortably as he felt the dwarf's icy stare bore into him. Thorin could see that he had. Bilbo was moving far too gingerly. He felt shame wash through him. He should have known better than to let loose. Bilbo was a hobbit, not a dwarf. No matter what Bilbo continually insisted, hobbits were fragile creatures by comparison.

"You didn't," Bilbo said, trying to reassure the upset dwarf. "Not really. I'll be fine. It's just . . . it's been a _very_ long time. I'll be alright." Thorin gave Bilbo a small smile in response but made a mental note to _never _ravage Bilbo in an alleyway like this again.

Thorin didn't have to worry too long over his shame at hurting Bilbo through his rough treatment as there was another prepared to take its place. They hadn't exactly been quiet and as Thorin had threatened—not knowing that he spoke the truth—the entire neighborhood had heard them. They exited the alley only to see a small gathering of hobbits standing in the street looking at them with wide shocked eyes. Despite the fact that Bilbo continually told the dwarves that hobbits were a prudish race, they had known _exactly_ what those _particular _sounds had meant. They had also recognized both cries as belonging to males. And despite their embarrassment at listening to others in the throes of passion, they couldn't resist the urge to satisfy their curiosity as to which of their neighbors was engaging in delinquent behavior.

They were only mildly surprised to recognize Bilbo as he walked out of the darkness, his hair mussed, face flushed, and his shirt and waistcoat gapping where buttons were missing—in other words, looking thoroughly ravished. His behavior was odd enough that him engaging in same sex relations was only mildly gossip worthy. What _they_ wanted to know was who had been with him. That was the truly interesting thing. A thing that only became more interesting as they realized that his companion was not only another male, but a male _dwarf_. The same one that had been so polite to in the market earlier.

"H-hello," Bilbo said awkwardly, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down with a nervous chuckle. They had been caught.

"L-lovely evening, isn't it?" He asked trying to break the tension. None of the assembled hobbits said anything, though their looks weren't particularly hostile, more shocked than anything else. "Even so, I suppose we should be returning to Bag End now," he continued before grabbing Thorin's arm and dragging him in the direction of home at a _very_ brisk walk. Not a run, but a _**very**_ brisk walk.

This time, the hobbits didn't even wait until they were out of earshot before the gossip began. The most outlandish theory that anyone had come up with turned out to be true. Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield were lovers.

**ooOO88OOoo**

They didn't stop walking until they reached Bag End where Bilbo promptly plopped down on the bench in his garden with his head in his hands. Thorin sat next to him, growing concerned as he noticed that the hobbit's shoulders were shaking.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked quietly. He hoped that the hobbit wasn't _too_ upset that they had been caught in a rather compromising position. He was shocked when he heard what was undeniably laughter from the bent form next to him.

"Did you see their faces?" Bilbo asked, looking up at Thorin with tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. "I thought their eyes would pop from their heads."

"You're not angry?" Thorin asked cautiously. He didn't want to incite Bilbo to a rage, but his reaction made no sense. Every time _anyone_ had mentioned their sex life Bilbo had flown into a temper, but now he was laughing hysterically.

"Angry?" Bilbo asked. "Heavens no! They had to find out eventually and can you think of a better way to break it to them?"

"Actually, yes," Thorin replied with a snort. He wasn't embarrassed to have been caught in the act with Bilbo. That had happened before during the quest. However he was embarrassed to have been caught in the act by _hobbits_. His dwarves hadn't cared, but the hobbits . . . they _had_ cared. And it surprised him that Bilbo did not. At Bilbo's dismissive gesture, Thorin felt his eyebrows come together. Even though this was more like the Bilbo that he remembered, it was not the Bilbo that he had seen lately.

"They were traumatized," Thorin reminded him. "By morning everyone will know of our indiscretion."

"They'll get over it," Bilbo replied with a smile. "Besides, no one will believe them. A male hobbit, and a male dwarf, having sex, in an alleyway in the Shire. Everyone else will think that they were a little too far into the cups. Mark my words."

"If you believe so," Thorin said with a sigh. If Bilbo wasn't upset, he saw no reason that he should be. It would either work out or not and there was nothing that he could do about it now.

"I do have one question though," Bilbo said, mischief in his eyes.

"Yes?" Thorin prompted. He had no idea what the hobbit wanted to know but he would do his best to answer it.

"Âzyungâl," Bilbo said suddenly. "What does it mean?" Thorin looked at the hobbit in shock. When had he heard that word? The dwarf couldn't remember having ever said it. Since Bilbo didn't speak Khuzdul Thorin refrained from using it around him when he could. He felt a small rush of jealousy as he wondered what other dwarf had dared to use that word towards his hobbit.

"What?" Thorin asked, trying to tamp down his jealousy. Even had another used it, Bilbo had been well within in rights to take other lovers. Thorin had been dead; he had no right to complain if Bilbo had sought companionship. Even if his other lover had also been a dwarf.

"What does âzyungâl mean?" Bilbo repeated. "I know that you dwarves don't like to give out secrets, but I hoped that after what you said earlier you would be willing to tell me."

"Where did you hear that word?" Thorin asked quietly, some masochistic part of him needed to know who had whispered it to Bilbo. At the hurt in his lover's blue eyes, Bilbo wondered if he had been mistaken. He had assumed it to be a term of endearment, but Thorin's reaction made him think that it must not be.

"You," Bilbo answered his voice uncertain due to Thorin's reaction. "You said it a bit ago while we were . . . " Bilbo trailed off with a blush as he tried to find the right word to describe what had just taken place between them. At the thought that it shouldn't cause him to blush to talk about something he had been able to do, his blush only deepened.

"I did?" Thorin asked, surprise evident in his tone. He didn't remember switching to Khuzdul. But, truth be told, he couldn't say with any certainty that he hadn't.

"You did," Bilbo confirmed with a wry yet fond smile. "Apparently the blood that usually fuels your language skills was otherwise occupied. I don't know that I have ever heard so much Khuzdul from you before. Or at least when you weren't swearing at orcs or elves."

"I wasn't aware that I said it," Thorin said honestly relief flooding through him as he realized that Bilbo hadn't had another dwarf as a lover. His answer, and Thorin's surprise at having said it, caused Bilbo to laugh once more. He had never seen Thorin say or do something that he hadn't meant to.

"Well, you did," Bilbo said trying to tamp down his amusement. "Now what does it mean?"

"It's meaning varies slightly depending on the surrounding context," Thorin said with a relieved sigh and a smile, "but it either means love—as a term of endearment—or lover." Even if he hadn't meant to say it, he didn't mind if Bilbo knew the meaning of that particular word. The hobbit could already _swear_ in the secret language of the dwarves, he may as well know how to say at least one nice thing. Even if it was a word that only Thorin should ever hear pass his lips. Or if others heard Bilbo say it, it had _better_ at least be directed at him.

"Hm," Bilbo replied, tilting his head to the side slightly as he thought. "I like it."

"Then you shall hear me say it more often," Thorin whispered as he claimed his lover's lips for another kiss, this one gentle and filled with promise.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Frodo and the dwarves were just sitting down to a late dinner when they heard the front door open. Frodo looked up hopefully. Even though the dwarves had been fairly well behaved, he was greatly comforted by the fact that his uncle and Thorin—who was the only one who could _actually_ control them—were back in case they decided that the time had come for more mischief.

"Just like Bilbo," Bofur muttered an affectionate smile on his face as he nudged Frodo warmly. "Your uncle always did show up once everything had been taken care of and all he had to do was eat."

"Be fair now, lad," Balin interjected, cutting off Frodo's question about what Bilbo had been doing and causing the younger hobbit to flush at the answer. "It wasn't always his fault. Poor lad couldn't help the fact that Thorin drug him away from the group when he was feeling amorous."

"He could have said 'no.' He didn't have to give in _every_ time Thorin asked," Bofur argued. "It might even have been more interesting for him if he had tried to frustrate Thorin. Might have made it more passionate when he finally gave in."

"And who says that we needed more passion?" Thorin called suddenly from the entry. Bofur froze. He hadn't realized that he was talking loudly enough for Thorin and Bilbo to hear him. He had also thought that it would take longer for them to get through the house to the kitchen. He turned to try to gage Thorin's response to his words, but they still weren't in sight. He had just been louder than he had meant to be.

"Besides," Bilbo chimed in with a wry smile at his lover and humor in his voice, "saying no would not have changed anything. When Thorin sets his mind to something nothing can change it. You should know that as well as I do."

"I for one am thankful that Bilbo never said no," Dwalin said gruffly, taking Bilbo's joke as permission to comment on their past romps. "I've seen many vile things in my life, but I think that the sight of the two of them writhing together in the middle of camp would have haunted me forever. That is an image that my eyes did not need."

"But you did catch us," Bilbo said a curious expression on his face. "I remember. And I must say that the look on your face was priceless. Though _why_ you walked in on us I never have been able to figure out. You _had_ to know why we had left camp so suddenly. Subtlety has never been one of Thorin's strong points when desire takes him." At the slight insult to his self-control Thorin gently elbowed the hobbit, earning himself a smirk from Bilbo.

"What was I supposed to do?" Dwalin asked his voice sounding almost distraught at the memory. "With the way two of you were both crying out and bellowing I thought that there was a battle going on. I was expecting to wipe orcs of the face of the earth, not needing to wash my eyes out."

"Oh! It couldn't have been that bad," Bilbo scoffed. "We're both fairly attractive males. There is no way that seeing us naked scarred you for life. Especially with all the incidental nudity that comes from traveling together with fourteen people for nearly a year."

"It wasn't the nudity that I objected to!" Dwalin replied with a smirk. Bilbo was behaving much better now, perhaps Thorin's talk with him had done the trick . . . or something else had. Dwalin hadn't missed the sly looks that passed between them, or the rumpled look that they both had.

"It was the sounds, and . . ." Dwalin stopped talking with a shudder. "I thought hobbits had _some_ shame but you showed me that I was wrong. The two of you were doing something that I hadn't even known was possible." At his words, the Bilbo blushed and Thorin looked smug at the reminder of what _exactly_ they had been doing when Dwalin caught them and the rest of the dwarves wondered what in the name of Mahal it could have been to make _Dwalin _shudder. Frodo had absolutely no desire to know. If seeing them kissing had been traumatizing, he had no wish to see what would traumatize the dwarf that seemed to have no shame himself.

"Though from the look of the two of you, nothing has changed," Dwalin continued, a wry smile on his face as he took in Bilbo's mussed clothes and missing buttons as well as the marks on his neck Thorin had left. He had only been teasing Frodo when he suggested that they were going to make up, but he saw now that he had been right.

"This?" Bilbo asked pulling at the gaping fabric of his clothing and attempting to close it. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Nothing of the sort happened."

"Really?" Bofur asked, with a smirk. "The two of you didn't have a little _encounter_ on the way home? How then do you explain the state of both of your clothing and the fact that you are both sweaty, dirty and that _you're_ limping?" Bilbo blushed slightly but was spared from having to answer by Thorin.

"We were at the forge," Thorin said simply, choosing to omit what had happened _after_. "Forges tend to cause one to be sweaty and dirty."

"And the limp?" Dwalin asked, refusing to let the topic drop. Any fool could see that there was an intimateness between them that hadn't been there when they left. It was clear what had happened, the only question was where.

"And what about his missing buttons?" Balin asked. "You can't tell me that he lost those at the forge. Even you two aren't so bad as to have done it there. Not on Thorin's first day." Bilbo's flush was answer enough. And at the sight of it, the rest of the dwarves bean to laugh. They didn't realize that it hadn't been in the forge proper, but the _where_ didn't particularly matter.

"Tell us that you were at least discreet about it," Bofur said around his laughter.

"They better have been after the lecture we got about _talking _about sex in the market," Dwalin grumbled. "If so much as _one _hobbit caught them . . ." It was a baseless threat and they all knew it. Dwalin was more amused than anything else and if Bilbo had been caught in the act by hobbits. . . well perhaps there was some justice in the world after all. Even so, Bilbo and Thorin both looked a bit sheepish at his words.

"Well . . ." Bilbo said slowly, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face, "I _did _say that subtlety is not something Thorin is good at." More laughter followed his words, though none of them dared to ask just how many hobbits had caught them. They were just happy that Bilbo seemed to be in a better mood. Dwalin smiled in satisfaction. Perhaps the suggestion that got him in so much trouble with the hobbit earlier had been right. All Bilbo had needed to fix his irrationality was a little _carnal_ attention from Thorin.

The only person _not_ laughing was Frodo. Mainly because he was under the table having passed out at the sight of his disheveled uncle and his equally rumpled dwarven lover and their rather frank admittance to having had sex on the way home from the forge. The three dwarves in the know exchanged meaningful glances and wordlessly agreed that they would figure out who deserved credit for this one later.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here's a new chapter for y'all! I hope that you enjoyed it. And as promised, there is a smutty outtake posted as a separate story titled Past and Present Entwined if you want to, feel free to check it out. If you do tell me how you think I did. **

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. I've answered them in PM this time because I was gently reminded that uber-long AN's are against the rules so I figured that I had better play by them for. So . . . looks like we're back to the PM system though I will still reply to anonymous reviews here.**

**Vrukalakos: ****I'm glad that you are enjoying it! And Yep, he's figured it out. And it'll still take a bit but eventually they will figure it out and the ring will leave Bilbo's possession.**

**Guest:**** Don't worry there will eventually be a Company reunion party. And I may even find a way to get them there as a surprise so that their shock gets to be public ;). And I tried to make this one a bit longer. Before the outtake it was actually one of the longest. And it is definitely the Ring. As to the ruining. . . .we'll just have to see. **

**That's all for now folks. **** I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	13. Chapter 13

After dinner was finished—Frodo having been roused so that he could enjoy his meal while it was still warm—they sat around the table as they had after most meals and traded stories and smoked. This time, however, talk was not about their old adventures, but the more recent developments that would have been the first order of business had Thorin's resurrection not eclipsed them. It had been years since the three of them had visited Bilbo and there was much catching up to do—which was extended even more by Thorin's desire to catch up on everything that he had missed in the last sixty years.

He was especially interested in the fact that Balin—of all people—had grown bored with the quiet life of Erebor and had planned an expedition to reclaim the kingdom of Khazad-dûm from the orcs—an expedition that Dáin had forbidden.

"Why did Dáin forbid it?" Thorin asked, surprise coloring his tone. If Balin had come to him with the request for dwarves for such a task he would have granted it. Balin was a loyal friend and a good leader. If anyone stood a chance of retaking their ancient kingdom it would be him.

"He felt that it was an exercise in folly to waste lives in an attempt to regain a kingdom that had been lost for generations," Balin explained with a shrug. "He said that it had already claimed enough dwarven lives and that even if we _were_ to succeed—against greater odds even than we had faced against Smaug for Erebor—the City would be in such disrepair that it would be nearly impossible to make hospitable once more. Repairs are _still_ underway in Erebor and he would not have been able to spare the architects to work in Khazad-dûm."

"Were you angry?" Bilbo asked. He knew that as far as dwarves went Balin was fairly level tempered, but to have his request denied and called folly by someone sitting on a throne of a kingdom that he had originally refused to attempt to recover . . . it had to have rankled.

"Angry?" Dwalin barked out a laugh. "He was furious! Came to me and Glóin and begged us to throw our own weight and influence behind his quest. Claimed that Dáin couldn't stand against us all if we put our minds to it."

"Did you?" Thorin asked, thinking that he already knew the answer as that they were correct. Even though they were distant cousins, they were still kin and if they had all banded together it would have been difficult for Dáin to refuse them, though he still could have,

"No," Balin replied with a grin at his brother. "Their wives intervened. If they had thrown their weight behind my quest they would have had to come along and neither of the women was willing to allow that. Not that I blame Nola. I wouldn't want to take care of his ten whelps alone."

"Ten!?" Thorin and Bilbo said in disbelieving unison. Neither of them could believe it. Ten children was almost unheard of for dwarves. Bilbo was feeling nearly faint at the idea that he had completely miscounted. Dwalin and his family alone made for twelve dwarves, which brought the total count up to eighteen. _No_, he mentally corrected, _Bombur has a wife and at least a couple children_. He looked helplessly at Thorin as he realized that they were talking about moving at least twenty dwarves into the Shire.

But Thorin would be no help. He was as shocked as Bilbo if not more so. He had known that Dwalin had a child—a daughter—but _ten_ children. That seemed almost excessive.

"Ten?" Thorin repeated, wondering if he had misheard. He had to have misheard or Balin had to be exaggerating for effect.

"Yep," Dwalin replied a smile on his face. "Seven boys and three girls. All strong and with wonderful beards."

"Even the girls?" Frodo asked, feeling so curious that he couldn't help by ask even if the question was a rude one.

"Aye lad," Dwalin replied a proud smile on his face as he bragged about his children. "My girls have fine beards."

"Is that . . . I mean . . . do dwarf women normally—is it not strange for women to have beards?" Frodo stuttered. Bilbo felt sympathy towards the lad. He remembered when he had first found out that dwarf women had beards and his shock—and the company's amusement at his new knowledge. Even so, he still halfway felt that they were having one over on him. He had yet to meet a dwarf woman and see for himself if she had a beard.

"Of course it's normal!" Bofur replied almost indignantly. "No self-respecting dwarf, be they male or female, would be seen without a beard."

"But it's not a _full_ beard," Frodo pressed. "Not like Balin's, is it?"

"Sometimes," Balin replied stroking his beard proudly. "Other times they shape them or braid them just as the men-folk do. As I recall, Thorin's sister had a thicker beard than he did for quite some time when they were younger."

"She did," Thorin said with a fond smile. "Dís grew a beard at a _very_ young age. Dark and thick. Our father was so proud of her."

"And then he looked at you," Dwalin teased with a smirk. "How did he feel about his heir having only a bit of fuzz on his face long after his baby sister had a beard?"

"It was more than a bit of fuzz," Thorin replied indignantly looking at Dwalin with a dark expression. "I had a beard, it just wasn't particularly thick."

"It was fuzz," Balin agreed with his brother. "It didn't even cover the skin beneath it."

"It doesn't matter," Bilbo said placing a hand on Thorin's arm. He had heard this argument before and had no desire to get into it again. It only ever ended with hurt feelings and the last time it had taken _days_ for him to pull Thorin back out of his melancholy and then it had only been accomplished with the aid of his nephews. The dwarves made noises of protest at his assertion that beards did not matter.

"Beards are important!" Bofur said just as Dwalin muttered, "Trust a _hobbit_ to say that only having fuzz until he was well into his seventies is normal." Balin laughed at his brother's words while Thorin scowled at the both of them.

"Now, now!" Bilbo said holding his hands up as though to demonstrate that he was unarmed, "I_ was not_ trying to discount the importance of beards. I was merely saying that it doesn't matter now because he has a fine beard. That was all."

"And how did you become a judge of what constitutes a fine beard, Master Baggins?" Bofur asked with a saucy wink. "Compared to your bare face, _anything_ is considered a fine beard."

"Perhaps that's true," Bilbo replied with a smirk, "but even without a beard of my own I can recognize a fine one when I see it." He was about to tease Bofur about his own, strangely shaped beard when Thorin changed the topic entirely.

"How is Dís?" Thorin asked suddenly. "After . . . how is she?" At his question all the joy left the room. Dís, Thorin's sister who had lost everything. Her name alone was a sobering thought.

"We don't know," Balin replied honestly, a slight catch in his voice. "She never moved to Erebor. She and a small settlement of dwarves still live in Ered Luin."

"She never . . . Why?" Thorin demanded. Confusion and fury warred to be his dominant emotion. Why would his sister—daughter of Thrain son of Thror—not return to her home kingdom? "Why did she not move home? Dáin would have welcomed her, would he not? He didn't forbid her presence?" His tone had grown steadily darker as he continued speaking. The idea that his cousin would turn away his sister made his blood boil.

"Nothing like that happened, Thorin," Dwalin promised, trying to calm the irate dwarf before something—or someone—ended up broken. "He requested that she come _many _times. I myself carried more than one message."

"Then why?" Thorin asked, his anger evaporating and leaving him feeling tired and almost nauseous as he realized that he already knew the answer. It was his fault.

"She couldn't bear it," Balin replied. "I asked her to come as well. She looked at me and even though she said nothing about why she was refusing, I could see it. She couldn't bear to be so near you and the boys and not be able to talk with you." Thorin closed his eyes and clinched his hands on his knees in an attempt to control himself. There would be time to mourn for the consequences of his actions later. This was not the time or the place.

"If it helps," Balin said gently, "she didn't truly see Erebor as 'home'. She told me that much."

"She didn't see it as home?" Thorin asked quietly. How could his sister not see their kingdom as home?

"Thorin, she was only ten when Smaug descended," Balin reminded him. "Most of her life was lived elsewhere. She made a home in Ered Luin. In the end she chose to remain there."

"So she still lives where . . . _we_ lived?" Thorin asked, the question strangled by the emotion threatening to creep up his throat. The thought of his little sister continuing to live in the same home that she had shared with him and her sons . . . alone. It wasn't right. Dís should not be alone. She should be surrounded by people who love her. _People I took from her_, Thorin though bitterly. Thorin couldn't even smile as Bilbo's hand crept into his own, the hobbit seeking to provide him with comfort. In fact it only made things worse. Comfort was something that he felt he did not deserve.

"Aye," Balin agreed, seeming to sense the thoughts that his old friend had left unspoken. There was nothing more that he could say. It had been decades since he had seen Dís, and the last time he had she hadn't been coping well. But Thorin did not need to know that, not with him already taking the blame of it all on himself.

"Perhaps she could be persuaded to move here," Frodo offered. He flinched slightly when there were suddenly five pairs of eyes staring at him. "I mean . . . Bilbo would have to agree, of course, but we do have an extra room and well . . . _you'll_ be staying here . . . and she's your sister. . . I-I"

"That's a fine idea, Frodo my lad!" Bilbo replied with a wide smile and a grateful nod to his nephew. He may not be pleased about the number of dwarves that were threatening to descend on the Shire, but with what was already coming he couldn't see where one more could hurt. Especially not Thorin's sister. Dís would be welcome in Bag End if she desired to come.

"We'll have to extend her an invitation," Bilbo said looking up at Thorin who shifted uncomfortably. The only way that Dís would accept such an invitation would be if Thorin issued it in person and while he wasn't _avoiding_ his sister, he didn't really see where it was his right to force her to speak with him if she didn't want to and there was no way to request an audience with her without telling her that he was alive and doing so in a message . . . that would be less appropriate than dropping in on her.

"Perhaps," Thorin replied. "Let's wait to do it until we at least get the settlement started. We don't want to make it seem like her only options are to stay in Ered Luin or move into a hobbit hole with two people she has never met and a brother she has every right to despise."

"We'll need to talk to Dís at any rate," Balin said. "We'll need trade if we are going to set up any kind of a decent forge here. The Blue Mountains can provide that for us and we'll need Dís's approval to manage it."

"Why would that need my sister's approval?" Thorin asked his eyebrows coming together as he spoke. It confused him. Dís was of the line of Durin, and the eldest member still living—it was strange to think that his little sister was now older than him—but women were never in positions of power. Dís could not help them.

"Dís took up residence in your halls and, by merit of your and the boys sacrifice, rules Ered Luin now," Dwalin explained.

Thorin sighed in response. This would only provide one more potential road block to the settlement that they were proposing. He would not blame Dís in the least if she refused to help them once she learned that he was involved. Even though no one had said it, he had no doubt that she hated him. He had taken everything from her.

"Once we get the rest of the details smoothed over I will go and speak with Dís about arranging trade and her potential move to the Shire," Thorin said with a sigh, his tone almost sounding defeated. "If that's all for the night, I'm tired and would like to go to bed. I will see you all in the morning." When no one said anything, Thorin stood slowly, his swirling emotions making him feel more exhausted than he had ever felt in his life.

"Thorin Oakenshield, that is very well _not_ all," Bilbo snapped hopping up from the table and grabbing the dwarf by the arm. Thorin looked at the hobbit wearily, his sadness burring in his eyes and causing Bilbo's own to fill with tears at the sight of it.

"What more do you want from me?" Thorin asked defeat clear in his tone and no heat behind the words. Bilbo's heart broke for the dwarf that he loved. He had never seen Thorin like this, there was such sadness there. He had seen rage, determination, regret, longing, but never abject sadness.

"If you think that you're getting into my bed as filthy as you are, you have to rethink that idea," Bilbo said, trying to sound like a disapproving lover by failing due to the emotion choking the words. "You need a bath."

"Bilbo, if you think that I am walking down to the creek in the middle of the night for a cold wash down—" Thorin said, his tone dark. He would not be told to bathe like a dwarfling. Not when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and weep like one.

"Don't be absurd!" Bilbo scoffed, gently pulling on Thorin's arm and leading him down the hall to the bathroom. "It'll be a warm bath. Hobbit's aren't barbarians!" Thorin sighed but allowed the hobbit to lead him away. Even if he didn't deserve comfort, the idea of a warm bath was appealing.

Even once they left the room, the conversation did not return to normal, nor did the atmosphere lighten. Those that remained sat in silence for a time, staring into the dying embers of the fire questioning for the first time if the settlement was worth the pain that it would cause both Thorin and Dís.

"Are you sure this is a good idea," Bofur asked glancing at the other two, his usual humor gone from his eyes and his face.

"No," Balin replied. "I hadn't thought about what this will do to Dís. Perhaps we should rethink it."

"Why?" Dwalin asked sharply. "She will find out that Thorin is alive eventually. And as this sharp lad pointed out," he ruffled Frodo's curly hair affectionately, earning him a glare from the hobbit that caused the others to laugh quietly, "Thorin is going to live here regardless of what we do. Do we truly intend to abandon him to endure alone the prudish hobbit customs?"

"Besides," Dwalin continued, "Thorin can't avoid Dís forever. He'll eventually have to face her and this gives him an excuse. Even if you two are too intimidated to live among hobbits and back out, me and mine will be coming to live in the Shire."

"Are you implying that we're too cowardly to live here?" Bofur asked, his humor returning to his eyes at the slight. He had faced orc, trolls and even joined a quest knowing that there would be a dragon at the end. He was no coward and Dwalin knew it.

"Aye," Dwalin replied with a smirk. "What of it? Will you prove me wrong?"

"Oh yes," Bofur replied rising to the challenge with a laugh. "I'll move here and even manage to integrate myself with the hobbits in ways you can't even imagine!"

"Is that so?" Dwalin asked. "Are you implying that I couldn't make hobbit friends if I wanted them?"

"Perhaps," Bofur replied with a smirk of his own. "Care to take a wager on it?"

"On what?" Dwalin demanded.

"I bet that before the first year is out, I will have more hobbits willing to call me a friend that you," Bofur replied his tone challenging.

"I'll take that bet," Dwalin replied a predatory smile on his face. "On _one _condition: children do not count."

"Now wait just one moment!" Bofur protested. He had been counting on his toys to win over the hobbit children to his side. Eliminating them from the reckoning was unfair.

"You may as well help me with the dishes, laddie," Balin said turning to face Frodo with a wry smile on his face. "Now that those two have gotten started they will be at it all night and we would be best to get any fragile projectiles out of range. I doubt your uncle would appreciate Bofur breaking his plates on my brother's hard head."

"If their fighting shouldn't we—"

"Mahal no!" Balin said with a laugh. "I would rather face down a dragon in naught but my smallclothes and brandishing one of your uncle's flowers than get in the middle of that. Don't worry," he added seeing Frodo's apprehensive expression—one that didn't entirely have to do with the arguing dwarves in the dining room. "They won't actually hurt one another."

Even with Balin's reassurances that no blood would be shed, Frodo couldn't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the raised voices that were coming from the two dwarves as they tried to iron out the terms of their contest. He gave a small snort of laughter at the thought of the poor hobbits that would be unwitting participants in their games and thanked the Valar that he was not in _their_ position.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter :) I hope that it was worth the wait!**

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**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

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**Stickdonkeys.**


	14. Chapter 14

Bilbo looked over his shoulder anxiously at Thorin. He had sat the dwarf on a bench against the wall while he busied himself lighting a fire under the copper water tank in the corner. Thanks to his parents, and his own small fortune, Bilbo had luxuries that others didn't and one of these was a hot-water tank. He had never been forced to heat water on the hearth and move it to the tub one container at a time (though he wasn't entirely sure that his way was any faster) all he had to do was light a fire under the tank and wait for the water to heat. Usually this was a luxury that he loved, but tonight he almost would have welcomed the extra work since it would have given him an excuse not to look at Thorin.

His lover seemed broken. So sad and almost lost. Bilbo had never seen him that way and it broke his heart. Thorin had seated himself sideways on the bench and was leaning against the wall, his head resting there as well as though he lacked the energy to hold it up. His hands rested limply on his lap where Bilbo had placed them. But it was his eyes that hurt Bilbo the most. His blue eyes, usually so expressive, were dead as he stared at the floor. If it wasn't for the fact that his eyes were open, Bilbo would almost have thought that he was sleeping. As it was, only the steady rise and fall of his chest showed that he wasn't, in fact, dead. And Bilbo couldn't stand it. But with the water heating and all the other bath supplies gathered in the room already, Bilbo could delay no longer and walked over to the disconsolate dwarf.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked quietly. The dwarf didn't even react to his own name. "Hey," Bilbo tried again, his voice still quiet. When he still received no reply, he reached out and attempted to gently stroke the side of his lover's face with the back of his index finger. Thorin made a small noise of protest and turned his face further away from Bilbo, his eyes closed tightly. With a sad sigh, Bilbo stepped forward and cradled the dwarf's head carefully against his chest, continuously stroking the raven tresses with the hand not holding him in place.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bilbo offered, knowing what the answer would be before he asked the question. Thorin would not want to talk about it. He wanted to brood and engage in self-flagellation for things that had happened long ago and that he had no control over. Even so, he felt that he should put the offer out there.

"No," Thorin replied, the word a whisper that was almost lost in the sound of heating metal coming from behind them. Bilbo nodded, a small sad smile on his lips. He had known as much.

"Is this about Dís?" Bilbo asked not missing the way that Thorin flinched at his sister's name. "I don't know why you're so worried. I believe that she will be overjoyed to see you. Though I'm not sure that she will want to move here, despite all the reasons that she would. Sometimes I think the Valar themselves couldn't pry you dwarves from your mountains."

"A dragon managed it well enough," Thorin replied darkly. Now it was Bilbo's turn to flinch. He hadn't thought about how Thorin might take that statement. In a normal mood, his lover would have let that fact slide, but once he was in the melancholies . . . anything that could lead to a depressing memory did. Even his nephews hadn't been able to make him smile when he fell into one of these funks, though they did always manage to pull him back out. Now it was up to Bilbo.

"True," Bilbo replied his voice tight as he agreed and tried to cheer Thorin by reminding him that it hadn't been taken forever. "But you managed to take it back. You won." It backfired. Rather than agree, Thorin scoffed, a bitter sound.

"Yes," Thorin finally said, his voice choked with emotion. "We managed to take it back. We accomplished the impossible: A dragon was slain, a treasure and a home reclaimed, the greater part of the orcs and goblins of the Misty Mountains wiped out and an alliance, of sorts, forged with _elves_! But we _did not_ win."

"How can it be a victory when . . . " Thorin trailed off pulling away to look up at the hobbit with tears in his blue eyes, "when _they_ died? They were too young, Bilbo. I never . . . I should never . . . it's _my_ fault. If I hadn't been so . . . so _determined_ to reclaim a kingdom and wealth . . . I . . . I could have been happy. I _should_ have been happy."

"I had everything I needed," Thorin continued, self-loathing filling his words. Rather than say anything, Bilbo let the dwarf continue to talk. Thorin needed to say this and Bilbo knew that if he so much as moved, Thorin would stop.

"I had a family. I had a home. I had a forge. It wasn't an easy life, but we could have lived well, even if I couldn't provide for Dís and the boys as I had wanted to. But between us, Dís and I made enough that we could live comfortably. But I was greedy. I wanted _more_!

"I wasn't content to live the life of a normal dwarf," Thorin said, his tone bitter as he detailed his flaws. "I was the son of Thráin, son of Thror, rightful heir of Erebor. There was no reason that I should be reduced to _working_ for food. If I took to the forge it should be because I wanted to, not because I had to! My pride killed them."

"No," Bilbo cut in reaching for Thorin once more. He knew that he had told himself that he would let Thorin talk it out, but he couldn't let that statement go unanswered. It hadn't been Thorin's pride that killed the boys, it had been goblins. Thorin wasn't to blame.

"You don't know," Thorin snapped knocking Bilbo's hands away from him. "You weren't there! Their entire lives I told them tales of the bravery and greatness of the line of Durin and tried to lead by example. I criticized them for their shortcomings. I know that's why they did what they did. They wanted to make me proud. I . . . I never told them . . . even if they had run from battle . . . I . . . I would have still been proud of them. They could never have disappointed me, not really. I _loved_ those boys like they were my own children. And I never told them. Not once." As he had spoken, his anger had evaporated and his voice dropped to a mournful whisper as he though on the wrongs he had done to his nephews.

"They knew," Bilbo said, drawing the now weeping dwarf into his arms. "They knew. Everyone knew. It was there, in the way that you looked at them." Bilbo paused and a small sad laugh bubbled up his lips before he continued. "It was even there in the way you yelled at them. We could see that the anger came not from disappointment—as it had with me—but from fear for them. They knew that you loved them."

"And I killed them," Thorin said pulling away once more to curl up on himself.

"You—"

"I did!" he snapped. "If I hadn't wanted to retake that _damn_ mountain from a _dragon_ they would never have been there to die! If I could have just been content with what I had and not lusted for more, they would still be in Ered Luin with their mother not buried under the stone. Or if I had just been stronger, resisted when Dís insisted that if I took Fíli I had to take Kíli as well, then at least one of them would still be there for her."

"She's been alone, Bilbo," Thorin said looking at the hobbit once more, his eyes holding immeasurable sadness, though the tears were gone. "Sixty years. She's been alone because I led her boys to their deaths. She won't want to see me and I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to see me."

"I wanted to see you," Bilbo said, his voice sad and soft. "You personally tried to kill me and I still wanted to see you. I think you underestimate how much you mean to people. She may be angry with you, but as you said, she's been alone. I think that seeing family again will temper her anger." The look on Thorin's face clearly said that Bilbo didn't know his sister, or dwarves in general, if he thought that was true but his retort was broken off as a hiss came from the tank behind them. The water was hot.

"Enough of this," Bilbo said briskly, clapping his hands and trying to force cheer back into the room. "Off with your clothes now. It's time to clean you up." Thorin gave him a small laugh in reply and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"So eager to get me naked, hobbit?" Thorin asked though it was clear that the humor was forced. "I thought that we took care of that need." Even as he spoke, he allowed Bilbo to take his wrist and help pull him to his feet.

"For a bit, yes," Bilbo replied, a sly smile on his lips. Thorin joking, however poorly, was the first sign that the melancholy would break shortly. This had to be a record. Usually they lasted much longer.

"A bit?" Thorin asked in surprise and his shirt was pulled over his head. Bilbo had been nearly insatiable when he was younger, always eager to try something new—sometimes things that caused Thorin to be a bit squeamish, hobbits may be prudish, but once they have been unleashed, they had more than a bit of kink to them (or at least Bilbo did). Even so, he was sixty years older and _should_ have mellowed some in his old age, or so Thorin had believed.

"I have sixty years of pent up frustration you need to deal with," Bilbo replied as he casually ran a hand over Thorin's bare flesh, the gesture affectionate but not necessarily sexual, before moving around the room. Even so, it caused the dwarf to shiver at the promise in those words and that touch. Sixty years was a long time to bottle up sexual frustration. The dwarf could only hope that he could keep up. He wasn't as young as he used to be. But then again, neither was Bilbo. It was sometimes easy for him to forget that Bilbo was no longer fifty; the hobbit looked exactly as he had while they were questing. There was a sadness there that hadn't been, but physically he was the same. That thought startled Thorin. Bilbo was the same. But during the quest he had told Thorin that hobbits only lived to be about a hundred. It made no sense. How was he unchanged in all that time? There should have been some change in him other than sadness.

"—Don't know what temperature you like your water," Bilbo was saying not realizing that Thorin had not heard the first of his words. "You'll have to come run it yourself."

"Bilbo," Thorin said suddenly as confusion momentarily overrode grief, "your birthday, how old will you be?"

"I thought you dwarves were good with numbers," Bilbo scoffed. "I'll be 111. Why?"

"You told me once that hobbits only live to be around a hundred?" Thorin said, his tone turning the statement into a question as he wondered if he had misheard. Perhaps Bilbo said two hundred. That would make more sense.

"We do," Bilbo said absently. "Now come run your water." Thorin sighed but complied with Bilbo's order. "This one's for hot and this one's for cold," Bilbo explained and left his lover to adjust the water to his liking while he gathered the bathing supplies to the tub.

"But if hobbits only live to be a hundred, shouldn't you be . . . older?" Thorin said desperately, looking absently down at the water and holding a finger under it to gauge the temperature. _No, _his mind added brutally. _He shouldn't be older, he should be dead._

"Are you objecting to my youthful appearance?" Bilbo asked suddenly, a laugh on his lips. "I can go find you an older hobbit if that's what you desire."

"That's not what I was saying," Thorin replied, slightly exasperated with the hobbit for even suggesting a replacement. "I was merely commenting on your unnatural preservation. What caused it?" Even as he spoke, the answer came to him. The Valar, they must have granted Bilbo a longer lifespan than was normal to give them more time together. It was an unexpected blessing, though he did wonder why they had waited sixty years to bring him back. Perhaps there was more to their act of kindness than he suspected.

"I don't know," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "Perhaps spending so too much time with stubborn dwarves. Something may have rubbed off."

"That's not how these things work," Thorin replied with a laugh. "Spending time with the wonderful creatures that are dwarves will not imbue you with our traits. Though there are a couple you would have been blessed to acquire."

"Like a beard?" Bilbo replied, reaching around Thorin to turn off the water.

"Never," Thorin replied fervently, stroking Bilbo's face. "I cannot imagine you with a beard. I like that I can see every twitch of your mouth as you think. A beard would only hinder that. You are perfect just as you are."

"Did I just hear you say that a beard would be a bad thing?" Bilbo purred. Even now, and even towards him, complements from Thorin were rare and he reveled in having received one.

"Perhaps," Thorin replied before stepping into the tub. "However, if you attempt to tell any of the others, I will deny it. No self-respecting dwarf can be known to have said anything derogatory about beards."

"I won't tell a soul," Bilbo promised as he began attempting to help Thorin divest his skin of the grime that it had acquired. "Just like I never told anyone about that other thing."

"Which other thing?" Thorin asked curious as to which one in particular Bilbo was referring to. There had been many, including his fascination with Bilbo's pointed ears—something no self-respecting dwarf could admit to due to their association with elves.

"Exactly," Bilbo replied, his hands moving to unclasp the braids in Thorin's hair so that it could be properly washed. Thorin almost sighed at the feeling of Bilbo's fingers in his hair. He had missed this: this closeness. Even if part of him resented being bathed like a dwarfling, the rest of him enjoyed the careful, nearly reverent, attention Bilbo paid to his body in a non-sexual way. They had never had time for this during the quest and he found that he liked it.

**ooOO88OOoo**

In the kitchen, Bofur and Dwalin had finally gotten all the details ironed out for their contest and had shook on it. Despite Frodo's fears no blood had been shed and no truly vile words had been exchanged. Once everything was figured out, it blew over as though nothing had been said and talk turned back to plans for the future and memories of the past.

"Do you really have ten children?" Frodo asked suddenly. He had been sitting quietly just listening to their conversation. Despite their lewdness, he could understand why his uncle liked the dwarves. They truly were a fun group.

"Aye, lad," Dwalin replied to the groans of the others. Dwalin could talk for days about his children.

"And only three of them are girls?" Frodo asked, knowing that he had made a mistake with his question when sadness settled lightly on the company once again.

"Aye," Dwalin agreed. "Only three are girls."

"Hey, that's something," Bofur replied. "Bombur only has boys."

"Why is that?" Frodo asked. He may not have known about sex, but he did know that families tended to have a fairly even mix of boys and girls.

"We're not sure," Balin replied. "Dwarf babes tend to be male. Almost seven boys to one girl. No one know why, but if a dwarf couple is expecting a babe, it is a safe bet that it will be a boy."

"So is that why Thorin and Uncle Bilbo . . ."

"No, lad," Balin said gently. "They love one another. It has nothing to do with a shortage of women. I won't say that it didn't contribute to our acceptance of it, two men living together is not uncommon among dwarves, but it is not the cause of it."

"Does it bother you, seeing them together?" Bofur asked, even though the hobbit's continual fainting almost answered the question for him. He wondered how Bilbo felt knowing that his happiness made his kin uncomfortably. Perhaps that was why he had been so touchy about the subject of his relationship with Thorin.

"No-Yes-no . . . I don't know," Frodo replied honestly. "The idea of two males . . . it makes no sense. But . . . they seem so happy together. I've never seen Uncle so happy. I know that he's been behaving oddly today, but he's happier than he's been in twelve years. I think Thorin is good for him."

"You're uncle was good for Thorin as well," Dwalin replied. "Before they paired off, Thorin was . . . bitter, angry. He hated life and . . . he was a hard man. Bilbo changed him for the better, even if he had a reversion at the end."

"What happened?" Frodo asked. "At the end, I mean. I heard a bit of the argument they had, I thought I heard Uncle say that Thorin tried to kill him but—"

"He did," Bofur replied cutting Frodo off. "After the dragon was killed and we were in the mountain . . . has Bilbo ever told you this?"

"I know that there was a battle, that's all that I know," Frodo replied. "He always rushed that part of the story. It was almost like he didn't want to talk about it but knew that he had to to finish it."

"He didn't. Because . . . well . . . it wasn't . . . it was bad," Balin said with a sigh. "Bard, the man that killed Smaug and the Elf King of Mirkwood came and demanded a portion of the treasure for helping us. Thorin . . . he . . . well he—"

"He'd gone mad," Dwalin cut in. "Only we didn't see it at the time. We didn't see the change in him as anything more than pride. We didn't realize that it was the gold madness that had claimed his grandfather."

"But Bilbo knew," Bofur said, taking up the thread. "He—the brave little thing—saw that Thorin had lost his mind and tried to force him to negotiate with the others by giving them the one treasure that Thorin desired above all others as a bargaining piece."

"The Arkenstone," Balin said, spitting the name like a curse. "The damn thing drove Thror to madness and almost took Thorin as well. And when Thorin found out what Bilbo had done . . . he . . . he—"

"Threatened to throw your uncle off the mountain," Bofur added, his voice tight as he relived the memory. "His own lover. His mate." At the words, he saw Frodo start. Even though he had heard it a couple of times now, the hobbit hadn't really believed it. Thorin, he didn't seem violent. How could he have threatened to kill Bilbo?

"Had him dangled over the side and everything," Dwalin said, not looking at Frodo as he spoke.

"What stopped him?" Frodo asked. "Did he stop on his own?" He hoped that was the answer. He couldn't reconcile the nice dwarf he knew with the image of an angry mad dwarf holding his uncle out to dash him to his death.

"No. Gandalf intervened," Balin said. "We all wanted to. Thorin's youngest nephew had to be restrained, but Thorin was mad, blinded by greed and betrayal. In the end, we watched as Bilbo left, saw the pain in Thorin as he crumpled. I saw him reach out a couple of times as if he would call Bilbo back, but he never did."

"He spent the night alone. Fíli and Kíli sat with him, trying to convince him to make peace and forgive Bilbo, but he ignored them, lost in his own misery," Dwalin said. "It was clear that he wanted to. The next day, however, the battle broke. Five armies met that day. Of our fourteen, only Thorin and the boys were lost."

"Your uncle," Bofur said sadly. "That day he lost everything that mattered to him. It was everything that we could do to get him to eat. He had lost his lover and two of his best friends on the same day. He got to speak briefly with Thorin, but the boys . . . they were already gone. He never got to say goodbye to them, none of us did."

"When he left to come home, we never thought to see him again," Balin replied. "I didn't think that he would make the winter but he did. He coped fairly well, though it was clear that he was brokenhearted still."

"Then you came along," Dwalin said ruffling Frodo's hair again. "And there was life in him again. Whether or not you know it, you helped. You gave him something to care about and a reason to live."

"But if Thorin tried to kill him, why are they still together?" Frodo asked choosing to not dwell on what Dwalin had just said in favor of leaning more about his uncle.

"You'll have to ask them," Bofur replied. "I can't speak for Bilbo's mind on that one. I can't say that I would have made the same choice and I can't explain it for you. If you want to know, you'll have to ask Bilbo." Frodo looked hopefully at the others and saw the same refusal there that Bofur had voiced. With a sigh, Frodo resigned himself to never knowing why Bilbo had forgiven Thorin. He wouldn't ask.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night. It's been a full day," Frodo said suddenly heading for his room. He couldn't cope with the revelation that had just happened in light of everything else. How had he already grown fond of someone that had tried to _kill_ his uncle? He just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

"You don't want to do that, lad," Bofur said flinching slightly at the glare Frodo leveled at him, his blue eyes icy. "With Thorin being upset and them being intimate again, the warning from last night applies more than ever. We might even be better off to go to the inn tonight rather than just sleep in the living room."

"I will not be evicted from my own room!" Frodo snapped, sounding more like Bilbo than he knew. "If they cannot keep their hands to themselves I will invest in some earplugs. Good night!" With that said he turned on his heel and stormed from the room having had more than enough of dwarves for one day.

As they heard the door slam behind him—with much less force than a dwarf would have used but more than any respectable hobbit would—the remaining dwarves hoped that Bilbo and Thorin were at least quiet about what would happen that night. They knew that the lad was just upset enough to try to yell at them.

"Are we sure that he's all hobbit?" Bofur asked suddenly, thinking about the icy glare he had just been given. Perhaps it was the color, but he could have sworn that he had seen the same look from Thorin before. The others just looked at him like he was crazy, of course the lad was all hobbit, and talk returned to other matters once again.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter :) I hope that it was worth the wait!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Guest1776: ****I'm glad! And Frodo is too much fun to get involved. And once they're old enough, Merry, and Pippin will have lots of accomplices in the form of Dwalin's offspring ;) The Shire has ****NO**** idea what they're in for.**

**Guest: ****I'm sorry. That won't happen. They aren't going to come back, though the angst over them will get toned down eventually. And they'll figure it out. Gandalf will be making an appearance shortly. **

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	15. Chapter 15

They needn't have feared for Frodo's virgin ears that night. It had been a long day. Between the disastrous trip to the market, Dwalin and Bilbo's fight, Thorin's evening at the forge and consequent romp with Bilbo (and Bilbo's resulting soreness), in addition to all the emotional turmoil of the day, neither of them was feeling particularly amorous. Instead, they crawled into bed, not bothering to dress after their baths, and lay together. Both of them drawing reassurance that things would work out from the feeling of the other's warm body just being there. That night it was not fluids that were exchanged between them, but something much more intangible but no less special: comfort.

The next morning found them as many others had, Thorin on his back with Bilbo curled up against his side and his head on the dwarf's chest. The dwarf smiled. It seemed that no matter how they fell asleep this was how they always ended up. He took the hand that wasn't pinned by Bilbo and brushed the hobbit's longish curls away from his face. He still couldn't believe that it had been sixty years. Bilbo looked just the same as he had the last time that they had woken up together. His hair was still longer than it had been the first time that they had met (more the length that it had grown to during the quest) and in sleep, the sadness was gone from his face. If it wasn't for the round windows and hobbit-sized furniture, Thorin could have almost convinced himself that they were in Laketown.

He stroked the hobbit again and was rewarded by a contented sound in his throat and Bilbo moving closer, though Thorin hadn't thought that it was possible. The dwarf was suddenly glad that they weren't in Laketown. Even there, mornings had come early and there had been no time for lazing in bed. He had woken Bilbo as soon as the sun was up and they had begun the day. He enjoyed being able to stay in bed and watch his hobbit sleep. He smiled down fondly at Bilbo as his fingers threaded through his curls and he wondered idly how the hobbit would react to waking with courting braids in his hair once more. Almost as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, he received his answer.

"Thorin Oakenshild," Bilbo muttered sleepily, his hazel eyes still closed, "if you are putting braids in my hair I _swear_ that I will bite you."

"I have done nothing of the sort," Thorin replied, with a small laugh. "Not yet at any rate. Though if you continue to sleep . . ."

"I will not consent to being braided," Bilbo said opening an eye and glaring up at the dwarf. "Not again."

"On the quest—"

"That was different," Bilbo argued. "It only made sense to allow you to braid my hair out of my eyes. I didn't want to die, after all. There is no such danger in the Shire. You will not braid my hair."

"What if it was only a _little_ braid? Not very intricate with only _one_ little blue bead?" Thorin asked attempting to reach a compromise. He hadn't realized it before Bilbo had forbade it, but he missed seeing Bilbo wearing his braids where everyone could see them and know what they meant. He missed having Bilbo marked as his.

"I said no," Bilbo replied his voice hard. He didn't understand why Thorin was being so pushy with the braids. He knew that the dwarf had always loved his hair and knew what braids meant to them. He also knew that he didn't want a braid. He wasn't sure why, but some deep part of him rebelled against the thought of being marked in such a fashion. It almost didn't sound like his voice, but he knew that it had to be. Who else would be in his head? Perhaps it was the long-suppressed Baggins side of his personality refusing to give up the last thing that truly made him a hobbit, the last shred of his respectability—which had admittedly been lost the night before but would only be further tarnished when he stepped out of the house in _braids_.

"Not even—"

"Why are you insisting on this!?" Bilbo snapped, sitting up to glare at the dwarf. Thorin flinched at the anger and madness there. Especially over so little a thing as a braid. He didn't understand why a braid would cause the madness to flare but he instantly regretted bringing it up. He would remember to avoid the topic of braids in the future. He wouldn't do anything to exacerbate the situation and speed Bilbo's final descent into madness.

"Hush," he whispered, pulling the struggling hobbit against him and fighting back tears once more. This was too much. "Hush. I am sorry. So sorry. I won't bring it up again. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so very sorry."

He wasn't actually apologizing for the braid topic, but rather for the fact that Bilbo was losing his mind and there was nothing that he could do to help him. His thoughts the night before came flooding back to him and he realized that perhaps _this_ was the Valar's goal. He had never heard of them being cruel, but it would make sense. Punish Thorin by making him believe that he was going to get everything that he ever wanted, keep Bilbo the same to make it all the more realistic, but delay their meeting by sixty years so that Bilbo had already gone mad from his grief and leave Thorin to deal with the consequences of his actions. It was cruel and such a fit punishment. It all added up. This was his punishment for the pain he had caused in his life.

As Bilbo began to calm once more, he realized that he had hurt Thorin's feelings. The dwarf hadn't said anything, but it was there. In the stiffness of his arms, the harshness of his breathing. Bilbo had hurt him, over _nothing_. His respectability had been gone for sixty years. What was a braid going to do to it that going on an adventure and bedding a dwarf hadn't already? He was being irrational again. It worried him. This had never happened before, only since Thorin had returned. Why was he reacting this way?

"I did it again, didn't I?" Bilbo asked suddenly, his voice small and frightened. "Lost myself over nothing."

"You did," Thorin agreed allowing Bilbo to move away from him now that it was clear that he was back to normal. His tear-filled hazel eyes were also filled with fear and confusion.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo cried his voice so helpless and small that Thorin wanted to scream his frustration to the heavens. "I don't know . . . Thorin, what's wrong with me? I don't understand it. Such little things, Dwalin, the hobbits in the market, and now a _braid_! A _**braid**_ of all things! There's nothing wrong with braids. I wore them for months! You've worn them for _years_. Why would a braid upset me? What's wrong with me?"

As he looked into Bilbo's eyes, so full of despair and yet hope that Thorin could fix it, the dwarf felt his heart break. He pulled his hobbit to him with a hard swallow, trying to fight back his own tears and failing. This was too cruel. It was too much. It might be less than he deserved, but he couldn't bear this. There had to be a way to help Bilbo overcome the madness. He couldn't bear to watch him dragged into it kicking and screaming. His pain gave him determination. Bilbo would not succumb to this if he could do anything about it. He had watched his grandfather, and then his father taken by it. He himself had given in, but it _would not_ happen to Bilbo. Bilbo would not be lost to it.

He pulled back to look at Bilbo, pity in his eyes. The hobbit looked up at him, surprise filling his eyes as he realized that Thorin knew what was wrong with him. He knew and he wouldn't tell. Suddenly rage was back. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but it was there and thirsting for blood. Be it physical or emotional, it didn't care. It wanted to see pain. And with Thorin, Bilbo knew how to cause it.

"You know, don't you?" Bilbo demanded harshly crawling out of bed to glare down at the dwarf. "YOU KNOW! You know and you won't tell me! Why won't you tell me?"

"Do you truly want to know?" Thorin asked quietly. "I can tell you but I do not believe that you will like the answer."

"Tell me," Bilbo hissed, his face inches from Thorin's and his eyes wide with that feral light shining within them. "Tell me what's wrong with me."

"It's madness," Thorin said, emotion choking the words. Somehow saying them aloud made the situation all the more real. Bilbo was going mad. "You're losing your mind."

"Madness?" Bilbo spat. "Just like what affected you?"

"No," Thorin argued. "This isn't gold-madness. But it is madness. I've seen enough of it in my lifetime to recognize it. When it hits you, you are not yourself. You lose yourself to the anger, just as I did."

"Just as you did?" Bilbo snapped all of his anger and unresolved resentment coming to the surface. He may be losing control of himself, but he still had all his memories and his sharp tongue—only made sharper by the lack of scruples the madness brought. The madness saw its opportunity to cause pain and it took it.

"Tell me," Bilbo said his tone conversational, his head tilted and a cruel smile on his face, "If I was to try to kill you in one of these bouts of madness, what would you do? Would you let me, as I almost let you? Not that I really had a choice. I couldn't win against you. I never stood a chance. If Gandalf hadn't have interfered you would have succeeded. I could have begged you, but it wouldn't have worked. I would have died, my pleas in your ears and my screams the last thing you heard. I would have died knowing that _you_ had taken my life."

"Stop this!" Thorin snapped his heart breaking at the thought of that outcome. He knew that it wasn't actually Bilbo saying such cruel things to him, but it looked like him, sounded like him. He also knew that the thoughts had to be there for the madness to bring them out. Bilbo had thought through this before. And it was his fault that he had it to think through. That thought hurt almost more than the words.

"Did you know that I had bruises for nearly a month from where you grabbed me?" Bilbo asked his voice deceptively calm and the same cruel light in his eyes. "That the next day, during the battle, my arms ached so much where you had held them to shake me that I could barely use my sword? If it wasn't for my Ring I never would have survived. I would have _died_ because of what you did to me."

"Please, Bilbo, stop this!" Thorin pleaded, his breath coming in pants as the hobbit's words tore at his already fragile soul. He had known that he had to have left bruises on Bilbo but he didn't realize that they had been so bad. He had never touched his hobbit that way before that day. He had always known that if he was not careful he would break Bilbo, with his small bones and thin skin, and so he had always been careful. To know that his treatment of Bilbo had almost resulted in his death not once by twice . . . it was too much.

"Not until you answer my questions!" Bilbo replied the sharp tone back. "Did you know and would you let me do it?"

"I knew," Thorin answered figuring that since pleading with him was not working perhaps giving him what he wanted would snap him out of it. "Not how long they lasted or how bad they were, but I knew there would be bruises. At the time I enjoyed knowing that I had caused them. That you would suffer at least a little for the betrayal you had committed against me. I regretted them almost instantly. I should never have done it. You meant me no harm."

"And the other question," Bilbo demanded, his smile widening at the sadness in Thorin's tone. "Would you let me take your life?"

"There is nothing for you to take, my burglar," Thorin replied with a sad, loving smile. "My life is yours to do with as you will." He bent to retrieve Sting from the top of the chest at the foot of the bed and unsheathed it before handing it hilt first to Bilbo and tilting his head and moving his hair to bear his throat for the hobbit's blade.

"If my death would please you," Thorin said his voice little more than a whisper as he looked at the hobbit levelly, "I will not resist you. Kill me. Kill me if that's what you want." Bilbo eyed his throat hungrily and for a moment, Thorin thought that he might do it, but then the feral light faded and _his_ Bilbo was back, staring at him with horror in his eyes.

The sword clattered to the ground where Bilbo stood staring at it as though it were a viper. He was gasping for air and sobbing. With a loud cry of anguish he sank to his knees. Thorin moved from the bed to kneel beside him and tried to draw Bilbo into an embrace. When the hobbit resisted, Thorin didn't press him. Instead he sat there and waited for Bilbo to calm.

"Would you actually have let me do it?" Bilbo asked eventually, his voice hoarse from his cries and his hazel eyes filled with pain. "Would you have let me kill you?"

"Yes," Throin replied. "You are the only person in this world that I have wronged as much as I have you. Even what happened to Dís was not truly as bad. I owe you my life, both for you having saved it and for almost taking yours in a fit of rage. If you truly desired my life, you could have it."

"No!" Bilbo snapped, anger but not madness in the word. His eyes were still his own. "You are not to think like that, Thorin Oakenshield! I'm _**not**_ allowed to kill you! And if I do try, in one of those fits of . . . madness" he shuddered at the word, "you are to _stop_ me. I know that you can. You can stop me without even hurting me. You're infinitely stronger than I am and you are to do it! If I try to kill you, STOP ME!"

"Bilbo—"

"Don't you 'Bilbo' me!" the hobbit snapped. "I don't want you dead. Not the _me _me. I have wanted you alive and beside me for more than sixty years. Please," here his voice became softer and his eyes filled with tears once more, "_Please_ don't allow me to take your life. I couldn't live with myself if I did it. Promise me that you won't let me do it."

Thorin sighed but said nothing. He wanted to make that promise, he did, but . . . death was such an appealing option at this point. Life was so hard, painful even. He had made too many mistakes, caused too much pain. It would just be easier if . . .

"Thorin," Bilbo growled, grabbing the dwarf's chin and forcing him to look at him, "don't even think about it. You do not get to die on me. Not again. Not this time. I understand it. I really do. When you died I wanted to follow you . . . but I didn't and you managed to follow me. Don't throw it away. What happened to the stubborn dwarf that led a rag-tag band of misfits on a quest to reclaim a mountain from a dragon despite the odds against him?"

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Thorin had shown rather suicidal tendencies on the quest and reminding him of them now would probably not be good. With a cynical laugh Bilbo realized that Thorin actually had very poor self-preservation instincts, between his stunt on the mountain side, to the _idiotic_ exploit with Azog, and the _war_ he got them involved in. It was a miracle that he had lived as long as he did if that was the kind of behavior he had habitually engaged in. Thorin, who extensively planned most things, had a very bad habit of letting his body act of its own accord when his emotions rose or others needed protecting. His mind brought forward a vivid memory of Fíli and Kíli diving into a swollen river after ponies and nearly drowning in the process and he amended his thought. It wasn't a trait singular to Thorin but shared in the entire line of Durin. It was no wonder that so few of them survived to old age. But Thorin missed Bilbo's dark bit of reasoning.

"I did, didn't I?" Thorin asked with a laugh. "And I made my way out of death itself to be with you. It would be foolish of me to give it up. I promise you, Bilbo, I will not allow you to kill me, even in one of your fits of rage. Nothing will separate us, not even ourselves."

Bilbo nodded, hearing the determination in Thorin's words and knowing that he meant them. And now that Thorin was determined to survive, Bilbo could turn to other matters.

"About what I said earlier," Bilbo began, "I just want to say—"

"Don't," Thorin replied, placing a hand on Bilbo's cheek. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't actually you who said it. It was the madness talking. At any rate, even had you been the one to say them you wouldn't need to apologize. I was the one who . . . who . . . who tried to kill you." His last words sounded strangled as he had forced them past his lips. "For that, I deserve any harsh words you have for me. I know that I can never make it up to you however—"

"Stop," Bilbo said gently, placing a finger over Thorin's lips to silence him. "Stop. I have heard all of this before. I have no desire to hear it again. I would not punish you forever for what you did. I won't tell you that it didn't hurt, both physically and emotionally, but . . . we can't keep going back to it. I know that this time I was the one that brought it up, but . . . we _both_ need to move on."

"How can you—" Bilbo silenced the dwarf with a gentle kiss. When he pulled back a gentle smile was on his face.

"If you can agree to let me kill you when I'm in a fit of madness, I think that I can forgive you for trying to kill me when you were in one, don't you?" Bilbo said, his smile still in place. "Now come, let's get your braids back in. A king—"

"Ex-King," Thorin corrected with a smile of his own.

"Either way," Bilbo continued his smile only widening, "the great Thorin Oakenshield of the line of Durin can't be seen in public without his hair properly dressed. Even if he _is_ only going to work as a blacksmith." Thorin laughed and moved back to the bed as Bilbo began the process of redoing all of Thorin's various braids. Once he was done, he reached timidly into a drawer beside his bed.

"No, Bilbo," Thorin said with a laugh, thinking that he knew _exactly _what Bilbo had just done. They had just had a fight, then expressed tenderness, Bilbo was probably expecting that sex would follow, but it wouldn't. Not for a few days at any rate.

"'No' what, Thorin," Bilbo replied, laughter in his eyes as he saw the hunger beginning to burn in Thorin's blue eyes. He may be saying no, but he didn't actually mean it. The hobbit knew that dwarf thought that he had oil hidden in his bedside table and that Bilbo was about to seduce him, but Bilbo had a feeling that Thorin would like what was actually in his hand even more.

"You're saying no and you don't even know what I want," Bilbo quipped, his hazel eyes alight with mischief.

"I think I know," Thorin replied playfully nuzzling the side of Bilbo's neck. "I think I know _exactly_ what it is you want, Bilbo Baggins. You may think that you are inscrutable but to me you are an open book."

"Fine," Bilbo laughed, pushing the dwarf away. He hadn't seen this side of Thorin before and found that he liked it. "If that's true and you know me so well, what have I got in my hand?"

"Riddles?" Thorin asked, remembering when Bilbo had returned to them having asked the Gollum creature the same question . . . or near enough.

"Nearly," Bilbo replied. "This is not a _true_ riddle. But we could make a game of it if you'd like. How should we do it?"

"I ask for the same chance you gave the creature," Thorin countered. "I get three guesses."

"And if you fail?" Bilbo purred, leaning in in an attempt to fluster the dwarf and only managing to fluster himself. The smell that was Thorin filed his nostrils and clouded his mind. He may not have intended to seduce the dwarf but it might just have to happen.

"If I fail," Thorin said with a grin that did unholy things to Bilbo, encouraging his already swirling hormones," in two days you may have your way with me. I will submit to you entirely." Bilbo dug his nails into his palm to attempt to hide the way the words affected him, though he couldn't entirely hide his _interest_ in them since they were both still naked.

"And if you win?" the hobbit asked, cursing his own breathlessness. He felt that he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. And at the same time he wasn't sure that he could stand to hear it.

"If I win," Thorin whispered, leaning in so that his beard tickled the hobbit's ear, "in two day I get to have my way with you. And I believe that deep down, despite your competitive nature, you _want_ me to win." Bilbo swallowed at the words. Oh did he want Thorin to win. He was almost disappointed that he knew his lover would fail.

"I accept your terms," Bilbo replied, trying to control his voice. "Now . . . what have I got in my hand?"

Thorin thought about it. He had originally thought that it was oil, but Bilbo's hand was too small to close completely around a vial of oil and still be as closed as tightly as it was. Whatever was in his hand was smaller than a vial of oil, and something that he would keep in a drawer . . .

"We don't have all day," Bilbo reminded him, his voice annoyingly bright. "You have a job to get to and I have a party to plan." Thorin growled. He couldn't think of it. It wasn't oil, and it had made Bilbo nervous. What was small enough to fit inside the hobbit's hand completely that would make him nervous so soon after . . . he had it!

"A bead," Thorin said triumphantly. "You have a bead in your hand. You were going to ask me to braid your hair." Bilbo laughed in shock, he hadn't expected Thorin to guess it. Especially not after their fight that morning about braids and beads. He opened his hand and nestled in his palm was a blue bead made of glass. Thorin picked it up and examined it carefully before looking at Bilbo with wonder in his eyes.

"I gave you this," Thorin breathed. "This is the bead I gave you—"

"When you proposed, yes," Bilbo replied with a smile. "I never got rid of it. After . . . well, I thought about it but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It's been in that drawer for sixty years."

"But it has no dust, no grime," Thorin protested. Even a glass bead should have gathered some tarnish in that time.

"No," Bilbo agreed. "That would have been hard for it to gather when I handled it as often as I have over the years." With another smile, Bilbo reached into the drawer and pulled out a small silver clasp, identical to the ones that currently held Thorin's braids. It was the one that used to hold Bilbo's, one that Thorin had taken from his own hair the night that he had braided in the bead, before that they had just used a bit of leather to tie the braids.

"I kept this too," Bilbo said, placing it in the dwarf's hand. "Do you still doubt that I missed you?" Thorin shook his head, swallowing around the emotion in his throat. That Bilbo would keep the things that he had given him even after he had banished him and tried to kill him, for the first time he realized just how much the hobbit loved him.

"I think," Bilbo said, causing Thorin to look up from the bead and the clasp to see the tender expression on Bilbo's face, "that they've been in that drawer long enough, don't you?" With a soft smile on his own face, Thorin began the act of braiding Bilbo's hair.

"Do you care how I do it?" Thorin asked quietly.

"Just pick," Bilbo replied, leaning lazily against his lover. "You're the one that has to look at it."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. Like with my other Bagginshield fic they kinda commandeered the latest chapter. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but I kinda like it and hope that you do as well :) **

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	16. Chapter 16

When Thorin and Bilbo finally emerged from their bedroom, the smells of breakfast had already permeated the air and the voices of the others could be heard from the kitchen. With a smile on his face, Bilbo took Thorin's hand and led him down the hall.

"I hope there is still food," Bilbo called as he came around the corner into the sitting room. "I'm famished and will be more than a little miffed if you lot took the time to cook breakfast but not to save some for us."

"I you wanted food you should have come out earlier," Bofur called back with a laugh as he began plating up breakfast for the two of them.

"Trust me," Thorin replied, his voice pained as he remembered what had happened that morning, "you're glad that we stayed in as long as we did." Bilbo gave his hand an apologetic squeeze and a small, sad smile before they were around the corner to the kitchen where the rest of them were assembled.

"I'm more than willing to take your word for it," Dwalin replied shivering again as he remembered the kinds of things that the two of them got up to. "If he's famished and you're . . . no I'd rather not know what happened."

"Oh!" Bilbo scoffed buttering a biscuit as he sat down. "Nothing like _that _happened. I'm far too old for such acrobatics anymore." At his words, and the nonchalance behind them, Thorin choked on his ale and Dwalin flushed to the top of his bald head. Neither of them could believe that _Bilbo_ would bring it up so _explicitly_. The others looked between the three of them speculatively. Even though they all knew that they most likely did not want to know, anything that could render Thorin speechless and make Dwalin blush had to be good . . . or completely debauched and for it to involve Bilbo performing acrobatics . . . it only piqued their curiosity—even Frodo had to admit that he was slightly curious, even if he was disturbed.

"But something of some sort must have happened, even if no acrobatics were involved," Balin insisted trying to bring the conversation back before something else got said. "You're wearing a courting braid again after all." Rather than reply immediately, Bilbo reached up and ran a hand across his braid, a small smile on his face.

"I am," Bilbo confirmed, even though no confirmation was needed.

"Are those—" Bofur began leaning in closer to look at the bead and fastener that were now in Bilbo's hair. He thought that he recognized them as Bilbo's courting gifts from years ago, but he wasn't sure. And he couldn't remember if Bilbo has still worn them the last time that he had seen them, though he doubted it. If anything would break a courtship, threatening to kill your intended _should_ do it.

"They are," Bilbo said, a warm, gentle smile now directed at his lover. "I kept them all these years."

"I don't understand," Frodo said suddenly. "What's so special about that braid? All of the dwarves have braids, what makes that one special, other than the fact that it's on a hobbit?" The dwarves and Bilbo all exchanged looks as they tried to decide who would get the task of explaining courting braids to the young hobbit. In the end, Thorin decided that he would be the one to do it, when it was clear that no one else would.

"Different braids mean different things," the dwarf began. "There are certain patterns that are reserved for particular things. And braids also mean different things based on who put them there in the first place."

"The same pattern put on your head by your mother holds a different meaning than if it was put there by a lover or a sibling," Bofur added with a smile.

"But how can someone else know who braided your hair?" Frodo asked, his voice only showing his confusion. The idea that there could be a meaning ascribed to hair arrangements was entirely foreign to him and he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. "Once it's braided, how do they know who did it?"

"The placement of the beads in the plait," Bilbo explained. "A mother will put a bead in one place—or not use a bead at all—while a lover will put it in a different place and a sibling in a third. The ornamentation is the key."

"What if there are no beads," Frodo asked, his natural hobbit curiosity taking control.

"Then odds are it was either braided by the dwarf in question, his or her family or before a courtship has taken place," Dwalin said.

"So the beads are the most important thing?" Frodo asked his voice bright as he felt that he had figured out a great secret.

"Not only," Balin said with a shake of his head at Frodo's oversimplification. "The location of the braid and the braid itself is also important."

"As is the clasp holding it," Thorin added with a soft smile for Bilbo as he flicked the silver clasp in the hobbit's hair affectionately.

"So what makes _that_ a courtship braid?" Frodo asked, focusing on that fact rather than the fact that his uncle was wearing a courtship braid despite being well past the age for courtship and it being a _dwarf_ braid.

"There are a few things that distinguish it as a courtship braid," Bofur replied. "Do you see the pattern in his hair?" Frodo leaned in, seeing the design that was just visible among the various strands of the plait and nodded. "That is one of the features."

"Also the bead," Balin added. "Every major line of dwarves has a color assigned to them. For the line of Durin it is blue—that shade of blue in particular. That bead marks your uncle as belonging to an heir of the line of Durin."

"Belonging to?" Frodo asked incredulously. "Like a home?"

"Not quite like a home, but sort of, in that it declares to other dwarves that Thorin has exclusive rights to my body," Bilbo replied with a lustful look at his lover. Which caused Thorin to growl low in his throat and Dwalin to chuck a roll at him.

"None of that now!" Dwalin snapped. "We don't need the two of you getting randy at the table. We eat here."

"It's not a bad as it sounds," Bilbo assured Frodo, seeing the look of horror on his young face. "Thorin's mine as well. The same night that he braided his bead into my hair I marked him as well." Frodo paled as he wondered how else dwarves _marked_ their lovers.

"Aye, and a sight he was too!" Dwalin laughed. "Do you remember, Brother?"

"How could I forget?!" Balin replied with a laugh. "I don't know that I had ever seen such a ludicrous thing in my life. The great Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, future King Under the Mountain, walking back into camp with daisies in his braids."

"They were forget-me-nots," Thorin corrected with a fond smile and what on any other would have been a blush. "Bilbo braided forget-me-nots into my hair."

"I didn't have a bead," the hobbit replied with a shrug. "No one told me that I was supposed to give you a bead. If they had I would have taken the time to carve one. I didn't know."

"The flowers were perfect," Thorin promise stroking Bilbo's cheek. "Even if I didn't get to keep them. Nothing could have been a better representation of a hobbit's love."

"Actually, you do still have one," Bilbo offered. Thorin raised an eyebrow at the statement. It had been sixty years. Surely there was no way that a flower could have survived that time. "That night, I took one of them from your hair and pressed it in the log book that Gandalf gave me. I knew that they wouldn't last and wanted you to have something to remember that night by. I still have it. In the chest at the foot of my bed."

"You'll have to show me," Thorin said with a smile. "Though I will have to take you up on the offer to carve me a bead."

"I'll be more than glad to do it," Bilbo replied, his eyes gentle. "With a forget-me-not on it."

"I think I preferred it when they were just randy," Dwalin muttered to Frodo. "The two of them undressing one another with their eyes across camp was easier to stomach than this is."

"I'm not sure how I feel about it," Bofur chimed in a wry smile on his face as he looked away from the affectionate couple. "The lewd looks were a bit much at times. Made me feel almost naked even though they weren't directed at me. Right uncomfortable it was!"

"That still wasn't as bad was when the two of them were mooning over each other," Balin said. "With the heat in both their eyes as they looked at one another, I'm surprised that poor Bilbo didn't burst into flames."

"It wouldn't have been all of him," Dwalin laughed. "Thorin only ever really stared at one part. And Bilbo didn't really need his a—"

"That is enough of that!" Frodo squeaked suddenly, startling all of them, and causing Bilbo and Thorin to jump apart even though Frodo wasn't actually talking to them. "I don't mind that they are together. In fact, I'm glad that they are happy. However, all of this talk about randyness and my uncle's" Frodo shuddered unable to say the word—partially because he couldn't decide which of the things about Bilbo that they had discussed bothered him the most.

"It needs to stop. I can't . . . it's too . . . I'm going for a walk," Frodo finally said before grabbing a book off the shelf and walking out the front door.

"Was it something I said?" Bilbo asked looking up at Thorin in confusion. The two of them had been so lost in each other that they hadn't realized what the others had been talking about and the others were not inclined to fill them in.

**ooOO88OOoo**

After the breakfast dishes were cleared away and Bilbo had put the kettle on for some tea, everyone sat down to their various plans. The dwarves using the kitchen table to plan their settlement—since there were _still_ details to iron out before they took it to the Thane—and Bilbo trying to finish off the plans for the party so that he could help them pick an ideal location.

As he looked down at the guest list and attempted to turn it into a seating chart for dinner, he sighed and decided that tea was not enough. A work of this magnitude called for stouter stuff and for the first time he almost wished he had a cask of dwarven ale. Or perhaps elven wine. That stuff packed a punch as well.

"I'm headed to the cellar," Bilbo said as he walked through the kitchen. "Can I get any of you anything?"

"Do you still keep wine?" Thorin asked, his eyes alight as he remembered the look on Bilbo's face the first time he had asked for wine.

"I'll bring you a glass," Bilbo replied, not begrudging the dwarf in the least for the request this time. "Anybody else?" There were a few grunts of disinterest that Bilbo took as a "no" before he trotted off towards his cellar. He had just gotten inside and was searching for a bottle of wine when he heard the bell ring.

"Can one of you get that?" He called. "I'm a bit busy at the moment." He wasn't sure if they had heard him, and didn't particularly care, when suddenly a shrill scream reached his ears followed by his name. He let out another sigh. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Lobelia. What was she doing here?

Groaning to himself, he climbed up the stairs and walked into the kitchen where Thorin, Balin and Bofur were looking towards the entry in curiosity. He set the bottle on the table and leaned in.

"Keep an eye on your valuables, lads," Bilbo warned. "I think Lobelia is a better burglar than I ever was." With his companions duly warned, he turned and walked towards the commotion that Lobelia was causing in the entry. As he neared her, he saw that Dwalin was attempting to restrain her as she fought tooth and nail to escape him all the while trying to beat him with her umbrella, which Dwalin took from her the moment Bilbo rounded the corner.

"Relative of yours?" Dwalin asked with a smirk at Bilbo, acting as thought the irate she-hobbit clawing at him meant nothing.

"A distant one, yes," Bilbo agreed before turning on her. "Lobelia!" he called, attempting to be heard over her shrill cries that Dwalin was attempting to kill her, "What are you doing here?" When she quit clawing at him, Dwalin released her hands and stepped back.

"Bilbo Baggins," she huffed glaring at Dwalin once more before rounding on Bilbo, her eyes aflame. "I am here because I heard the most _vile_ rumor while I was in the market this morning."

"Oh really?" Bilbo asked, attempting to keep his tone light rather than demand what it had to do with him or ask what business it was of hers even if it did. "And what was this rumor about?"

"You," she spat. "I heard that you were _fornicating_ with a _male_ dwarf in an alleyway! Was this the brute you were _having relations_ with?"

"Brute?" Dwalin sneered leveling a glare at her. "I'm no brute. And I will have you know that Bilbo would never be so lucky as to have a tumble with me. I know things that . . . "

"NO Lobelia," Bilbo said loudly in an attempt to cover up what was sure to be a colorful rant from Dwalin, even if he wanted to let him traumatize the vile woman. "I wasn't in an alleyway with Dwalin. And I wasn't exactly forn—"

"But you don't deny that you were in an alleyway with a dwarf," Lobelia insisted. "I swear Bilbo, you besmirch the good name of Baggins more and more every day! Why if your poor father were around to see this . . . dwarves in his home and his only son _fornicating _with them in public! It would kill him, it would!"

"I assure you, Lobelia," Bilbo sighed rubbing his temples as he felt another headache coming on, "I do no more to besmirch our family name than you and your son do. Less even."

"How dare you!" she snapped. "I have never brought near the shame on us as you! **I** never went off on an adventure and came back strange, well strang_er_. And I would never do something like _that_ in an alleyway!"

"Perhaps you should look into it!" Bilbo snapped. "It might help your personality!" Dwalin snorted at the implication in Bilbo's words while Lobelia turned an interesting shade of puce. "In fact—"

Bilbo was cut off as Thorin bent down to wrap his arms around the hobbit, attempting to calm him before the madness could take over once more. "Who is this, Âzyungâl?" he whispered, trying to distract Bilbo by making him think through a foreign word. It worked and he felt Bilbo lean into him with a purr.

"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins," Bilbo replied leaning into Thorin's embrace with a smile at the term of endearment, "a _relation_ of mine. Lobelia, this is Thorin Oakenshield, erstwhile King Under the Mountain, and the "brute" I was cavorting in the alley with." Thorin dipped his head to her at the introduction as she gaped at him. She couldn't believe that Bilbo had been doing _that_ in an alley way with a dwarf King. _Bilbo_?

"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?" Balin asked suddenly, recognizing the name from the second time that he had visited Bilbo in his home. "Not the same one that was selling your things at auction when you returned home, is she?"

"What!?" Thorin demanded. He had never heard about this. Bilbo had nearly lost his home in his attempt to help them regain theirs? And that woman had been the one to do it.

"The same," Bilbo replied with a smirk. "Lobelia has been trying to get her hands on my home for years. My longevity is a major inconvenience to her. She had hoped that I had died sixty years ago but here I am, nearly 111 and still going strong. She hates it, don't you, Lobelia?" Lobelia said nothing, but looked almost nauseous at the glares she was receiving from the dwarves and Bilbo's self-satisfied smirk.

"She tried to sell your home?" Thorin breathed, anger coloring his words. The thought that Bilbo's home had nearly been taken from him by another caused his blood to boil. Too many people that he cared about had lost their homes. He had been unable to stop the dragon, but there was no way that a she-hobbit would cow him. She would rue the day that she ever attempted to wrong his mate—even if he wouldn't actually hurt her, this would be a lesson she would never forget.

"No," Bilbo argued seeming to sense his lover's train of thought and smirking at what he knew was coming. Lobelia would finally get her comeuppance. "She wanted to keep my home. It was my possessions she had no need for. _Those_ were what she was auctioning off. Took me forever to get them all back and all kinds of paperwork to get her out of Bag End."

"So she was a squatter," Dwalin said looking down at her with a cruel smile, Bilbo had just given them free license to scare her and Dwalin did not intend to let the chance pass him by. "Do you know what dwarves do to squatters?" She shook her head, her voice failing her and panic in her eyes. She had closed the door behind her when she came in and now she was trapped in the house with four large dwarves leering down at her. For the first time she wished that she had been kinder to Bilbo, perhaps then he would be more inclined to help her.

"Squatters in my realm tended to become involuntary permanent residents," Thorin elaborated darkly. "And I assure you, their residences were _not_ comfortable, nor their meals particularly filling. Especially when they trespassed on the property of my family. In both Ered Luin and Erebor we had special dungeons reserved for people that attempted to squat in royal apartments, which as my mate Bilbo's home became. Perhaps we should send word to my sister or my cousin. I'm sure that they have more than enough room in one of their dungeons for a hobbit. Would you like that, Bilbo? I'm sure that we could arrange it." Lobelia looked up at Bilbo with pleading eyes. She knew that one word from him and she would be gone, disappeared into the darkness of dwarven dungeons to live out the rest of her days. Her heart stopped beating as Bilbo looked at her speculatively before looking up at his royal lover.

"I don't think so," Bilbo eventually said. "She didn't do that much harm, after all. And I did eventually get my home back."

"If that is how you feel," Thorin replied stroking the side of Bilbo's face with a smile. "I suppose that if you can forgive her for her transgressions against you, I can as well. However if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands. Dís has never before seen a hobbit and Dáin . . . he's never had one in his dungeons."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bilbo replied with a smile before turning back to Lobelia. "Can I do anything else for you or did you just want to keep me abreast of the Hobbiton gossip?"

"Nothing else," She said, her voice high and panicked as she grasped for the knob behind her. "Sorry to have troubled you. Have-have a n-n-nice day!" With that she opened the door and bolted out it as thought Bilbo and the dwarves were breathing dragon fire after her, not even bothering to pull it closed behind her.

Silence followed her departure for a moment before it was broken by Bofur. "Did you see her face?" He asked, the words garbled by the laughter that accompanied them. "Royal dungeons reserved for squatters! Where in Durin's name did you come up with that, Thorin?"

"Was it too much?" Thorin asked with an uncomfortable smile and a small laugh of his own. "I feel like I may have overdone it a bit. Perhaps I should have just stuck with either Ered Luin or Erebor and not both."

"No it was perfect!" Bilbo added, his own laughter choking his words. "And the bit about the food! That was marvelous! You managed to hit on both of the things that would most trouble a hobbit, food and comfort!"

"Well," Balin said after they had regained control of themselves, "I hope that you were not fond of her, Bilbo. I doubt we'll ever see her again."

"It's no loss, I assure you," Bilbo said with another laugh. "I've been trying to get rid of her for _years_."

"Glad that we could be of service," Dwalin laughed clapping the hobbit on the shoulder before walking back to the kitchen. "I'm only a little disappointed that she didn't faint." The rest followed him, still laughing at the look on Lobelia's face and the readiness and creativity of Thorin's lie.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked as he closed the door. "What would you have done if I had said yes?"

"I have absolutely _no_ idea," Thorin replied with a laugh. But it hadn't mattered. Bilbo hadn't said yes and Lobelia had gotten the fright of her life, courtesy of the dwarves, a fright that she never explained to anyone for fear that Bilbo would change his mind about her imprisonment. That's not to say that she didn't continue to spread gossip, however, she was more careful about it, making sure that she could be in no way connected to any gossip that related to Bilbo or his dwarves.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter! I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	17. Chapter 17

With the door safely shut once more, Bilbo followed the others back into his dining room and sat down at his end of the table with his ale and his guest list to try to iron out all the details. The atmosphere, though it had not been tense before, was much lighter now since none of them could look at Thorin with a straight face.

"Squatter's dungeons, indeed," Bilbo muttered to himself as he vindictively placed Lobelia next to Thorin at the main table for the party so that he could watch and see if Thorin managed to trick her again.

"What are you smirking about, Bilbo," Bofur asked suddenly. "Surely planning a seating chart can't be _that _amusing."

"Oh, nothing much," Bilbo replied with an evil glint in his eyes that was caused by mischief rather than madness. "I just figured that Lobelia would just _love_ to sit next to Thorin at the party. You agree with me, don't you?"

"Most definitely," Bofur replied while Dwalin said "That is sheer evil, Bilbo," with an appreciative grin.

"Shouldn't you take pity on her, lad?" Balin asked with a fond shake of his head. "She did just have the fright of her life. Wasn't that enough?" Bilbo opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Thorin.

"That was most certainly _not_ enough," Thorin growled darkly. "I only wish that I could have actually done what I threatened. I had been enjoying my lack of responsibilities, but now . . . I almost miss the power I once had. If I could have done it—"

"You would have imprisoned that hobbit forever?" Balin asked in shock. Those words worried him. Thorin had always been a bit cantankerous, even when they were growing up together, but this . . . the only time Balin had seen him say or do anything like that had been when he had threatened to kill Bilbo. It worried the old dwarf.

"Not forever," Thorin amended with a casual shrug. "Just for a time. It would have served her right. To think that she tried to take Bilbo's _home. _The very thought of it makes my blood boil. His _home,_ Balin. It was almost taken from him as ours was while he tried to help us reclaim our own."

"But it wasn't," Bilbo said standing to go to Thorin. He hadn't thought about how hearing that Lobelia had almost taken his home would affect the dwarf who had lost not only his home but his mother to the dragon when he was little more than a dwarfling. To him, Lobelia was no more than an irritation, but to Thorin . . . to him she was a lesser side of evil.

"She didn't succeed," Bilbo soothed his lover, stroking the side of his face and looking into his sad blue eyes. "I managed to stop her. My home was never taken from me."

"It doesn't change the fact that she tried," Thorin muttered, leaning into Bilbo's hand.

"No, but it doesn't matter either," Bilbo replied resting his forehead gently against Thorin's. "And I can assure you that after the fright that you just gave her we will never have to worry about her trying again. You have ensured that my home remains safe, Thorin, just as you reclaimed yours."

Any reply that Thorin might have made was cut off as Frodo walked through the door.

"Can any of you tell me why Lobelia was running down the hill looking like she was being chased by a warg?" Frodo asked. "She about bowled me over in her haste. You lot wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" His only reply was a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Despite the tension that had erupted in the room a bit ago, the mental image of a pale terrified Lobelia grasping for the doorknob was one that they wouldn't soon forget. And even if Bilbo had mostly forgiven her, they were dwarves and she had committed a wrong against someone they were fond of, they were not near as quick to forgive her as Bilbo had been. She had deserved it. Though their humor was tempered a bit by the fact that they now knew that it had only half been a jest. It wasn't near as funny as an actual threat, but it was still funny enough.

"That, my dear Frodo, is quite a story," Bilbo replied once he was able. "However it is not mine to tell. If you want to know what happened to her, you will have to ask Thorin Oakenshield, Great _Fibber_ Under the Mountain."

"And how, pray tell, would Frodo ask Thorin Oakenshield anything, Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf asked poking his head in the door of the hobbit hole. "I know that you, of all people, have not forgotten his fate. And while it does please me that you can speak his name once more, I doubt he would be overly pleased with your new title for him. Thorin was a _very_ proud dwarf, after all." Though Gandalf didn't say it aloud, he did feel that if any were justified in calling Thorin by such a title it would be Bilbo after the gross betrayal of his trust that Thorin had committed. It was just that he had never thought to hear the hobbit say such things of the deceased dwarf.

"And furthermore," Gandalf said. "I fail to see what he could possibly have to do with Lobelia, the dreadful woman. I almost regret that she never made the pleasure of his acquaintance. With how she treats you, I am more than willing to bet that he would have had many words for her and none of them kind. Despite that _unfortunate_ affair, he really was quite fond of you." He had wanted to tell Bilbo that for many years but the pain had always been too close to the hobbit for him to feel able to. Now that Bilbo was speaking of his dead lover once more, Gandalf deemed that it was time. Perhaps hearing it from another would help Bilbo to move on.

"Aye, that he did!" Bofur said with a laugh, thinking of the words Thorin had said to Lobelia. Gandalf smiled at the dwarf's words thinking they referred to his words about Thorin's affections for Bilbo, Bilbo needed his friends after all. "Had some mighty fierce words for that orc of a she-hobbit." Gandalf felt his smile falter. What were they talking about? Thorin had never met Lobelia, had he? Gandalf didn't believe so and certainly not after he would have had words with her over her treatment of Bilbo.

"What did he say?" Frodo asked brightly. While he didn't like it when the dwarves pestered him continually, Lobelia deserved whatever she received and he hoped that it had been particularly vile . . . perhaps Thorin and Bilbo had opened the door in a state not conducive to receiving visitors. As much as the thought disturbed him, it made him smile to think that Lobelia had been traumatized.

"Threatened to put her in the dungeons of Erebor or Ered Luin," Dwalin crowed. "Something about squatting in royal apartments having a life sentence."

"He didn't!" Frodo laughed sitting at the table and reaching for a cookie.

"Aye, lad, he did," Bofur replied with a laugh. "Even went into how abysmal the food would be and how lacking in comforts the dungeon is."

"That's perfect!" Frodo laughed. "Serves her right too. Always up here pestering us. Half the time I think she only comes to see if Bilbo is dead at last."

"Or to steal my silverware," Bilbo said, turning to face Frodo with a smile. "I know that I've lost more than one set to her over the years."

"When did all of this happen?" Gandalf asked trying in vain to understand what they were talking about. His memory was beginning to fade a bit as the years continued to pass him by, but he knew that he had not lost that much. It was mostly archaic spells and such, not events. And he would surely remember hearing about Thorin yelling at Lobelia.

"The last time you lot were in the Shire Thorin wouldn't have had time to talk with Lobelia and he surely wouldn't have threatened her with imprisonment for squatting in royal apartments," Gandalf said, thinking of the very rocky start that Bilbo and Thorin had gotten off to. "She has never left the Shire." Bilbo, Thorin, Balin and Frodo flinched. They had forgotten that Gandalf did not know that Thorin lived. They felt trepidation take the place of amusement as they wondered how the wizard would take the news. This could be about to go very badly.

"Course he didn't!" Dwalin replied. "That conversation took place . . ." the warrior trailed off as he realized what the others had. Gandalf didn't know.

"When?" the wizard said, making his way further into the house, making sure to duck the fixtures. He could feel that something was going on here, and while it didn't feel evil he wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling. It almost felt like . . . but that was impossible. There would be no reason for him to feel the presence of _them_ here. They hadn't come to Arda for many an Age.

"Moments ago," Bofur replied as though Gandalf were being dense on purpose. "Lobelia came, beat Dwalin with her umbrella, argued a bit with Bilbo and then Thorin threatened to imprison her for squatting and she ran." If it hadn't been for the sensation of the magic of the Valar in the air, Gandalf would have believed this to be an elaborate joke. The dwarves—and Bilbo—were shameless pranksters and just the _idea_ of _Lobelia_ beating _Dwalin_ with an _umbrella_ was ludicrous enough to make him disbelieve it, if he hadn't seen the look on her face himself.

Even so, he was unprepared for the sight that met him as he rounded the final corner. Dwalin, Balin, Bofur and Frodo sat at table looking at him expectantly while Thorin stood at his entrance, an almost nervous half-smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around Bilbo almost as if he were hiding behind the hobbit.

"Gandalf," the dwarf said with a small bow. "It's been a while." Gandalf looked at him carefully for a moment, studying his features and holding the dwarf's gaze. While it was clear that it made Thorin uncomfortable, he continued to stare into the wizard's eyes as Gandalf attempted to read his soul. After what seemed like an eternity, the wizard blinked and smiled.

"It has indeed," Gandalf replied as though he hadn't just stared down an ex-dwarf King. "I never thought that I would say this, but I am glad to see you again, Thorin Oakenshield."

"I suppose that I deserve that," Thorin said with a small laugh. "We didn't part on the best of terms, after all."

"No," Gandalf replied crisply. "We did not. Your stubborn pride had just caused a war that killed many good people and you had just broken the heart of a being that I am very fond of. Bilbo Baggins did not deserve _any_ of what you did to him, Thorin. I do not know why he chose to allow you back into his home, but—"

"Now Gandalf—" Bilbo said, attempting to diffuse the situation before Thorin and Gandalf came to blows in his dining room. A great warrior Thorin may be, but Gandalf was a wizard. He wouldn't stand a chance.

"No," Thorin said softly, placing a hand on Bilbo's cheek to quite him. "Gandalf is correct. You didn't deserve that." He paused to glance at the others in the room before turning back to Bilbo. "None of you did. He is not being unkind, only honest. It's less than I deserve for the pain that I have caused."

"You have changed, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said suddenly an appreciative look in his eyes. "A change that I believe to be for the better. Death may have been good for you." Bilbo squeaked indignantly but Gandalf ignored him and turned to Frodo.

"Now, Frodo my lad," Gandalf said with a fond smile, "I never believed that I would have to say this in a hobbit hole, but I am famished. Is there naught to eat?" With a surprised noise and many apologies for making Gandalf go hungry, Frodo began to get him a plate of things to eat to tide him over while the dwarves—minus Thorin who was still looking sadly between Gandalf and the hobbit in his arms—began to prepare lunch.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Despite the little storm cloud of gloom that had settled over Thorin at Gandalf's words, lunch was a merry affair. Gandalf and the rest of the dwarves spent it catching up and telling Frodo of things that he had never seen, much to his enjoyment. Bilbo watched it all in silence as he sat next to his morose lover. Frodo should have been born a Took, what with his penchant to tales of adventure.

"He would go with them, you know?" Bilbo said suddenly, watching his nephew laugh with the others as Bofur told of a "conversation" he had gotten into in a tavern in Dale with a man over whether dwarves or men made the best toys.

"Where?" Thorin asked. He hadn't been paying attention to the conversation and wondered if the others had offered to take Frodo somewhere dangerous. He wouldn't allow that. Bilbo would not lose his nephew the way that Thorin had lost his. Frodo would remain in the Shire where he was safe.

"Nowhere, anywhere," Bilbo said with a sad smile. "He would go. He has too much of me in him, even if we're not blood related. He thirsts for adventure. I should never have told him so many stories from the trip to Erebor. Or I should have told them as they actually happened rather than omitting all the terror to keep from giving him nightmares. He seems to think that adventures are marvelous things."

"They can be," Thorin offered trying to reassure Bilbo that adventures weren't all bad, though Frodo would never go off with a contingent of dwarves if it was within Thorin's power to prevent—which it was. "Parts of ours were."

"And parts of it were deadly and terrifying. _Most _of it was deadly and terrifying," Bilbo retorted not realizing that Thorin was as set against Frodo leaving as he was and thinking that the dwarf was trying to convince him to let the lad do as he would.

"That's just because you weren't doing it right," Bofur jumped in. "Adventures only have to be terrifying if you allow them to be. We weren't terrified, were we lads?"

"Speak for yourself," Balin replied with a snort. "Those stone giants! _They_ were terrifying and I have no problem admitting it. As a dwarf I never thought to be afraid of stone but" Balin paused with a shudder. "If you weren't scared-witless _at least_ once on that quest it's just a sign that you were already witless to begin with."

"For me it was the spiders," Dwalin said quietly his eyes haunted as he remembered being captured and wrapped by the spiders. "The way their pincers clicked." The great dwarf gave a shudder. "I can't even stand the little ones anymore."

"Mine," Bofur began slowly, his voice little more than a whisper, "mine was when Bombur fell into the river. I'll never forget the feeling of knowing that I would never see my brother again. The thought of telling his wife that he was dead. . . "

"I had too many to pick between. I spent most of the quest terrified," Bilbo said quietly his voice sad as he thought about it. "But if I had to choose—"

"Bilbo, you don't have to share that with us," Balin cut in, knowing without a doubt what it would be and not wanting him to have to say it. They all knew that Thorin trying to kill him had been the most terrifying thing for him, and rightly so. Your lover should never become your murderer.

"Nonsense," Bilbo scoffed. "You all shared yours, I'll share mine. It's not what you're thinking about, Balin, I promise." And it wasn't. That moment had been one of the most heartbreaking, not the most terrifying and he had no desire to ask them which had been theirs in _that_ category since he was willing to bet that they all shared _that _one.

"My most terrifying moment was when I had to walk alone into the lair of Smaug," Bilbo said with a sad laugh. "It even topped jumping into the river to ride down to Lake Town. I shook the entire way down that tunnel. Even though I knew why you couldn't, I wished that you all could have come with me. As selfish as it was, I knew that I was going to die and halfway wished that we could all die together." The others smiled fondly at him. They still couldn't believe that he had been able to do that. It took some courage to walk into the den of a dragon and until that point, though he had proved himself time and again, none of them had believed that he would actually do it.

"That was mine as well," Thorin replied. It surprised them, they had figured for sure that his was something else as well, but Thorin, like Bilbo, put the memory they had to be thinking of in a different category entirely.

"I almost couldn't bear to let you go," Thorin said with a sad smile. "It was Fíli who reminded me that it was why we had brought you in the first place and Kíli that sat with me until you returned. I miss them." There were mumbled agreements before the clock on the mantle chimed noon and Thorin stood with a sigh.

"Are you coming with me today, Bilbo?" he asked offering Bilbo a hand which the hobbit gratefully accepted.

"I'm afraid I must," Bilbo said a mischievous light in his eyes at the fact that he would once again get to watch Thorin at work. "I'm not sure how well you will be able to get back. Your sense of direction—or lack thereof—is infamous." This statement was met with a general laugh of amusement. Thorin had the worst sense of direction most of them had ever seen. It had been a joke in Ered Luin—out of earshot of Thorin, of course—that the only reason he could find his way through his shirt in the morning was the light from the hole.

"I managed to lead us to Erebor," Thorin replied gruffly. He knew that he was bad with directions, but to be called on it . . . it rankled a bit.

"Yes, and the journey there took twice as long as my return trip," Bilbo replied with a grin. "And if memory serves, you got lost _twice_ in your attempt to find my home even with the mark that Gandalf left on my door!"

"Yes, well, it was dark and there was no one about to ask," Thorin replied with a grimace at the memory and not feeling up to pointing out to Bilbo that most of the delays had _not_ been his fault. They had spent a couple of months in Thranduil's dungeons, after all. "I'm sure that more than one of the friendly market hobbits will direct me to the forge."

"_IF_ they'll speak to you now," Bilbo replied with an indecent smirk. "We did cause quite a disturbance yesterday."

"We did indeed," Thorin agreed with a growl. "And, my dear hobbit, if you do not stop looking at me that way I may forget my promise to give you a couple of days to recover and we may give them a repeat performance." Bilbo said nothing, but simply looked at the dwarf cheekily over his shoulder as he walked to the door, Thorin right on his heels.

"Do you _ever_ think they will stop doing that?" Frodo asked desperately once they were gone.

"No," Balin said with a sigh.

"Not a chance, lad," Bofur agreed.

"Trust me," Dwalin said shaking his head. "This is a tame version. They have been much worse in the past. When they first started . . ." Dwalin couldn't quite find the word that he wanted to use to describe what exactly it was that Thorin and Bilbo did and before he could, Bofur decided that it didn't matter.

"We almost tied them to a tree and left them," Bofur finished. "Dori was particularly adamant that we needed to. Something about ruining his brother's innocence. Fíli and Kíli were beside themselves."

"Only because _someone_," Balin said with a pointed glare at his brother, "allowed them to walk in on their uncle and the hobbit at a stream."

"They got even with me, the little brats," Dwalin growled. "There is _no_ way that what they say _compared_ to what I did."

"You never did tell us what they were doing," Bofur said with a curious tilt to his head. With a quick glance at Frodo's pale face, Dwalin shook his head.

"If you truly want to have nightmares for the rest of your life, ask me later," the warrior told the toymaker. "I won't say it in front of the lad." That settled it for both Balin and Bofur. They would ask that night. Dwalin was the forerunner in the "Fainting Frodo" contest and for him to pass up an opportunity . . . this had to be debauched indeed!

"On a different, yet related note," Gandalf cut in, "where did they go? I believe that Thorin said something about the forge?"

"Aye," Dwalin said. "Thorin has no sword and no money so he is working for the hobbit smith to earn the materials he needs."

"But Bilbo has money," Gandalf argued. "More than he will ever spend. His parents—well his mother—were wealthy and he still has gold from your adventure."

"Yes," Frodo agreed. "But Thorin wanted to do it this way." With that, a true smile crossed Gandalf's face. Death truly had been good for Thorin after all. It had tempered his arrogance and rage and brought back the dwarf he would have been had Smaug not taken his home when he was a boy. Now all that was left was for Gandalf to figure out why he was back at all.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter of this one up and ready for your reading pleasure. I hope that you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, you all really make my day :)**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that you liked it, and there will be another opportunity for a little Lobelia abuse. :) Let's just hope that she can't behave herself at the party :) And I'm glad that you are still loving Frodo's reactions . . . poor thing's going to get traumatized shortly . . . .**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys.**


	18. Chapter 18

However Bilbo had expected the hobbits in the market to behave towards him and Thorin, it wasn't what he received. Rather than avoid the two of them, the hobbits surrounded them the way they had before with more questions for Thorin and now a couple for Bilbo. The questions flew faster than they could possibly answer as the hobbits pressed closer in on them as if to press the answers from their very lungs. But, really, Bilbo should have anticipated this; hobbits were curious things by nature and when you added something that was as taboo as a homosexual relationship to the mix, their curiosity became insatiable.

So now, Thorin and Bilbo were besieged in the market being bombarded by questions that they were unsure how to answer. In the end they decided that the truth would be the best option, but they didn't have time to answer any of the questions before another flew from a different direction.

"Did the two of you meet on that mad quest he went on?" Asked one hobbit woman as a male hobbit queried "If you did, where have you been for the last sixty years?" as a third asked "Is it true that you are dwarven royalty?" and a fourth—a cute, tiny, wide-eyed hobbitling with a bright blush on his little round cheeks—asked "Is it true that you two . . . _you know_? Just like Mommy and Daddy?" At that last question—such a taboo subject—coming in such an innocent tone from such a small child silence fell in the market and Bilbo felt a flush rise up his cheeks. He had no idea how to answer that question from a child. With an adult he would have either answered that they were—perhaps crudely explaining how such a thing worked if he was particularly irate—or told them that it was none of their business. But such a small child . . . Bilbo had no practice with small children. Frodo had been twelve when he was adopted. Not truly a child, not like _this_ one, which couldn't be more than five years old.

Thorin, however, had a bit more experience with small children and bent so that he was as close to eye level with the youngster as he could be. He should have expected it, but for some reason he hadn't realized that hobbit children were so much smaller than dwarflings. He had seen swaddled dwaflings that were larger than this hobbitling that was walking and talking. He was suddenly struck by the realization that hobblings were absolutely precious and Thorin suddenly and painfully wished for the first time for a do-over with his nephews when they were small. Perhaps he and Bilbo would have to adopt a small orphaned hobbit, or perhaps an orphaned dwarfling as the odds of finding one of those would be greater due to the lifestyle so many dwarves led. He had originally intended to only speak with the child, but now he had the ardent desire to feel a small body in his arms once more.

Watching the child's mother carefully and gauging her reaction, the dwarf reached out slowly and lifted the child onto his hip with a smile. The mother was a bit shocked, but her expression soon melted into a smile as she saw how gentle the large dwarf was being with her child and the lack of fear her son had for the dwarf, even going so far as to reach up to touch one of the silver clasps of his braids. Hobbits—while parents were the absolute authority in child-rearing—had no objections to allowing others to play with or lift their children. They truly did live in a blessed area with no crime and very little danger and their permissiveness of strangers to touch their children was a byproduct of their seclusion.

"And where did you hear that, little one?" Thorin asked with a laugh as the child managed to swat one of his braids. He knew from experience that children had a knack for hearing things that they ought not to and knew that odds are that he had overheard it from his mother gossiping. But even so, he couldn't find it within him to be angry with her. After all, this was most likely the most interesting thing to happen in Hobbiton in many years and she had said nothing that wasn't the truth after all.

"Everyone is saying it," the little boy said shyly looking up at the dwarf through his bangs. "They all say that you and Mister Bilbo were for . . . forni . . . doing _something_ in an alley that only married couples should do."

"They were right," Thorin said gently a soft smile on his face as he ruffled the boy's hair. "But it's alright. Can I let you in on a secret?" Even though the question spoke of a secret, Thorin kept his voice loud enough that everyone could hear him easily. The little boy nodded eagerly, his green eyes wide at the prospect of being let in on a secret.

"Do you promise to keep it just between us?" Thorin asked, laughter in his voice as he remembered how easy it had been to get such eager expressions from his nephews when they were young. Rather than hurt him, the memory made him feel warm. They had been such happy dwarflings and had always managed to bring out the softer side of him.

"Can I tell Mama?" the child asked, concern furrowing his tiny brow at the prospect of being forced to keep something from his mother.

"Of course you can tell your Ma," Thorin replied with a true laugh. "We can't have you keeping secrets from her!"

"Ok then," the little hobbit agreed, a smile brightening his face once more with the rapidly shifting emotions of a young child. "What's the secret?"

"Mister Bilbo and I _are_ married," Thorin replied conspiratorially. "We traveled together on the quest and fell in love on the road. Just before we reclaimed my kingdom from the dragon Smaug, he and I were wed in front of my kin—his friends—by the Master of Lake Town."

"You are?" the hobbitling asked with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. "I didn't know that you were married, Mister Bilbo!"

"No one did, lad," Bilbo replied with a sad smile. "That's why it's a secret. Can we trust you to keep it for us?" The boy nodded eagerly and looked between Thorin and Bilbo with wonder in his green eyes. He squirmed slightly and Thorin set him back on the ground to return to his mother with a slight bow of thanks to the hobbit woman in question for allowing him to hold her child. She smiled back at him and gave him a slight nod of her own. While she may not approve of Bilbo's dwarf's extracurricular activities, he _did_ have a way with children and through the medium of her child he had answered most of the questions they had posed to him.

"Again, I am afraid that I must take my leave of you. I'm afraid that your smith will have my beard if I am late for work," Thorin said, looking between the shocked faces of the adult hobbits as they processed the fact that not only had Thorin just admitted that he and Bilbo had been rutting in an alleyway, but that he was a king—or at least in possession of a kingdom—as well as the fact that he and Bilbo had quested together. But the most shocking thing—and more fodder for gossip—was the fact that not only were he and Bilbo _intimate_; they were _married_! And the Shire had missed out on the party that would have accompanied Bilbo's wedding. Just the thought of the food that they had missed out on . . . they wondered if Bilbo could be convinced to have an official Shire wedding to go along with his dwarven one. Even if they weren't entirely sure that they approved of his choice of mate, a Baggins party was not something to scoff at and they would be more than willing to support a strange wedding to be invited to one.

When it became clear that no path was going to magically appear this time, Bilbo and Thorin began the slow process of edging their way through the crowd. As with the day before, no sooner had they cleared the crowd than gossip began flying once more, but unlike the day before Bilbo wasn't livid with his lover: that day, he was amused.

"I saw that, you know," Bilbo said as soon as he believed them to be out of earshot, looking at Thorin out of the corner of his eye with a smile on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Thorin replied with a small wry smile. No one had ever called him on the way he behaved around children before. It shouldn't have surprised him that Bilbo would be the first. "There was nothing for you to see."

"You mean to tell me that I did not just see the Great Warrior-King Under the Mountain cuddling a hobbitling in the market?" Bilbo asked sarcastically, a fond smile on his face as he remembered how open and gentle Thorin's face had been as he held the little one. It had been strange as he had never seen anything close to that expression on his lover's face before save for the few precious moments they had been able to lie together after they made love, but not abnormally so. And he found that he had loved seeing it.

"You saw nothing of the sort," Thorin teased. "I would never do anything as undignified as cuddle a child. Especially not a hobbit child. I do not cuddle hobbits." Bilbo snorted quietly in disbelief. He knew for a fact that Thorin did, in fact, cuddle at least one hobbit and even if he had never seen Thorin around children before he had no doubt in his mind that the dwarf had cuddled many children over the years. He was fourteen years older than his sister, after all. Surely he had held her when she was a child.

"Bilbo," Thorin began quietly after they had walked in silence for a moment. "I know that we will need to talk about it and that you will need to think it over, but . . ."

"You would like to raise a child," Bilbo said with a knowing smile. "I saw it in your face before you picked up the little lad. And you're right, Thorin. That is something that we will have to talk about and think long and hard on before we attempt it. You have to remember, I am eleven years older than I ever should have gotten. And I'm . . . well . . . do we need to bring a child into that?"

"I'm not saying no," Bilbo continued as he saw Thorin's face fall slightly as he laid out the difficulties they needed to think about before they even thought about adopting a child. "I am just saying that we need to think carefully on it. And if we decided that we want a child—assuming that we can find another orphan to take in—what kind of child would we want? A dwarf? A hobbit? I would ask about a human or elf but that would pose and entirely different problem as I have not Man-sized rooms in my home."

"So you will think about it?" Thorin asked hopefully. He hadn't realized until that day just how much he actually _desired_ to raise children with Bilbo. A part of him felt guilty at the desire. He had already raised his children and failed them. Was it fair to their memories to start over? But another part of him argued that he was not replacing his boys and that they would want him to be happy. If his happiness would also bring joy to an orphan, where was the harm in that?

"I'll think about it," Bilbo agreed. "I would have you happy and if a child is what it takes, I think that I can live with that. Just remember that if we do acquire one if it is a particularly young one they are quite needy and I am rather old."

"My dear hobbit," Thorin replied with a laugh, "I still have eighty-four years on you. You do not get to talk to me of being old."

"What if we just agree that we are both old and let the matter drop?" the hobbit asked with another smile which Thorin returned before they walked into the open door of the forge and Thorin relieved Tom for the afternoon. There was a larger pile of things to be completed that day than there had been the day before despite the substantial pile that Tom had already completed. Apparently word of Thorin's presence had spread and business was flooding in even from as far as Buckland and Tookborough.

At that information, Thorin had his second realization that day: if he and his kin opened a forge in the Shire, they would put Tom out of business. He hadn't thought of what repercussions such an action might have on the smith already working in the Shire. While he prepared for work, the wheels in his brain were spinning as he tried to think of a solution that would not put Tom out of business and would not inconvenience his kin either. The only solution he could think of was one that would be a hard sell: Tom would have to work _with_ them. They would all still make a profit and it would serve all of them well, the problem would be convincing Tom to join them and convincing his kin to allow the hobbit into a dwarven forge.

He knew that he could order it and they would obey, but they would not welcome the hobbit. It would be the situation with Bilbo all over again. Even though it was not an elegant solution, it was the only equitable one that he could see and he would enforce it if he had to. He only hoped that it would not come to that. With that idea figured out, Thorin turned his full attention on lessening the pile if not eliminating it entirely and Bilbo settled down with a red book and a quill in the corner. Both of them occasionally stole glances at the other one or asked a question, but for the most part the afternoon was spent in a companionable silence—from words at any rate since forges are _never_ silent.

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time that dusk came and Tom returned, Thorin had completed all of the repairs and had banked the fire and returned all the tools to their proper places. Tom picked up a couple of the pieces and looked at them before glancing up at the dwarf with wonder in his eyes.

"You mean that you managed to do all of that in half a day?" Tom said his voice showing his shock. "I'd thought that that pile would occupy us a few days at least."

"Should I work more slowly?" Thorin asked seriously. He hadn't meant to upset the hobbit and if there was a reason the hobbit wanted him to work more slowly he would be willing to do it.

"Of course not!" Tom cried in joy. "I have no objections to how quickly you work. I'm impressed, though I may have to go knock a few holes in pots to keep us in business if things keep up at this rate."

"I would hate for you to have to resort to that, Master Tom," Thorin said with a laugh at the idea of the hobbit sneaking into homes to break pots.

"I don't believe that I will have to," Tom replied with a laugh of his own. "Do you realize that in two half-days you have done nearly a week's worth of work? Even if I can find us no other work for the rest of the week, you have already completed enough to keep the forge's profits steady 'til next week." Thorin remained silent, unsure of what he should say in response.

"In fact," the hobbit smith continued, "now that your relationship with Mister Bilbo has come out and I know that you will be here for some time if not forever, if I am unable to find you work or you complete all that I have found I see no harm in you starting to reap your end of our bargain."

"That is very generous of you, Master Tom," Thorin replied with a bow of thanks. With the thought of the partnership he was about to propose, the dwarf made an offer that he never thought he would make to a hobbit. "When such a day comes, if you would like to learn, I would be more than willing to teach you how to forge a sword."

"You . . .you would _teach_ me?" Tom asked breathlessly. He knew that dwarves were very secretive and especially so when it came to their forging secrets. The idea that this dwarf would _teach_ him how they forge swords . . . it was astounding.

"I would," Thorin replied. "I owe you a debt; most smiths would not have turned their forges over to me so readily or allowed me to earn my reward so quickly. They would have claimed that I was barely making any profit for them and kept me for months or perhaps even years before they admitted that I had earned my pay. I admire your kindness and honesty. For this, I will teach you."

"Will you not be in trouble with you kin?" The hobbit asked warily. He didn't want to discourage the dwarf but he also didn't want him to come to harm for his generosity.

"If you know of my relationship with Bilbo then you have also heard the other rumors about me, have you not?" Thorin asked with a small laugh. The smith nodded. "They speak the truth. There are none that could criticize my decisions." When the smith looked confused, Bilbo walked forward wrapping an arm around Thorin.

"What he is trying to hint at but is too modest to say is that he is the Heir of Durin," Bilbo said with a gentle smile. When it was clear that Tom was still confused, Bilbo decided to elaborate further. "Thorin _was_ the king of the dwarves before some . . . _unfortunate_ circumstances changed it and the throne passed to his cousin. Even so, he can do as he will and not be in trouble for it. To think," Bilbo said looking up at Thorin with humor dancing in his hazel eyes, "I just accused you of being modest. That is something I _never_ thought that I would say about you," Thorin elbowed Bilbo gently at the snide remark on his humility, or lack thereof.

"He's a king!?" Tom gasped. The idea that a _king_ would be working in his forge left him flabbergasted. He knew that dwarves—even their women—were capable smiths but a _king?_

"I _was_ a king," Thorin said with an exasperated glance at Bilbo. It hadn't been humility that had caused him to attempt to hold that information, but rather it had been an attempt to keep from upsetting his relationship with the smith overmuch.

"I'm just a dwarf now," Thorin continued. "True, I still have respect and the power of my name, but I have no real power anymore and no kingdom to call my own. I only wish to live the rest of my life in peace. That includes working when I can. I hope that this new knowledge will not affect our agreement."

"Not at all!" Tom replied suddenly. "It doesn't affect our deal in the least! And if you want to live an ordinary life—not that I would tell you how to conduct your business, mind—I would keep that _little_ fact a secret."

"Did you hear that?" Thorin asked with a hard look at his lover. "We need to keep my lineage _secret_."

"Don't look at me like that, Thorin Oakenshield!" Bilbo snapped playfully. "_You _were the one telling the hobbits in the market that we were married before reclaiming _your kingdom_. You have given up the secret as much as I have and you did it first." Thorin at least had the shame to look embarrassed. He had forgotten that he had said that to the child.

"Well, if the secret is already out, I'd say prepare yourselves," Tom said with a laugh. "Hobbits may not have royalty, but they liked you well enough before and now . . . it may take you forever to get anywhere for quite some time."

"In that case," Thorin said with a sigh, "we had better head home. Though this is not the longest I have kept Bilbo from a meal I doubt that he will be pleased with me if I delay it much longer." Tom said nothing more but gave them a nod of farewell as he finished closing up the forge for the night. As they walked away, Tom couldn't help but stare after them wondering how in Middle Earth Mad Bilbo Baggins had wound up with a dwarf King for a lover. He wished he could say that stranger things had happened, but if they had, he didn't know about them.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed. **

**Guest1776:**** Thank you so much! I'm glad that you think it is still getting better! **

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	19. Chapter 19

"So, Frodo," Gandalf said with a smile for the young hobbit as they sat in the garden while Gandalf had a smoke. He truly did love the Shire, with all the peace and quiet there and all the green and growing things. Bilbo's garden was especially beautiful. The weather was warm enough that none of the flowers were suffering from the cold and the rain had been plentiful enough that year that all of their blossoms were lovely. A busy wizard Gandalf may have been, but even he could appreciate the beauty of a garden in full bloom.

"What do you think of your Uncle Bilbo's mate?" Gandalf asked. He was genuinely curious what Frodo made of the situation. The boy was sharp and had good instincts. If he felt that something was off with Thorin, even if Gandalf couldn't sense it just yet, he would believe him.

"I like him," Frodo said with a smile. "He's been nothing but kind to me and he makes Uncle Bilbo so happy. I do wish that they were not quite so affectionate but . . ."

"Oh, Frodo my lad, that is only natural," Gandalf assured him with a laugh. "They have not seen each other in sixty years after all. They _may_ calm in time. They _were_ newly-bonded when they were separated." He was pleased _that_ was the only concern that Frodo had about the situation. He knew that Bilbo and Thorin could be a bit _overbearing_ at times when they were together, be it when they were fighting and making life uncomfortable for everyone during the quest or when they were mooning over each other like lovesick fools. He smiled indulgently at the thought. The two of them truly were a good match.

"But something about him confuses me, Gandalf," Frodo said, his brows pulling together as he tried to put his discomfort into words. While he believed what the others had said, he knew that Gandalf would give him a straight answer on the matter—if he answered at all, that was.

"What confuses you, Frodo?" the wizard asked, his heart constricting painfully within him. Part of him had known that it was too good to be true: Thorin coming back from the dead. He had known that it would not last. Bilbo's poor heart would only be broken again, though he had hoped that he was just being cynical.

"Thorin . . . he . . . he seems to love Uncle Bilbo very much," the hobbit said slowly. The wizard nodded. Even a blind man could see how much that dwarf cared for Bilbo. "How did he do it? Everyone says that he tried to kill Bilbo but . . . I don't see how he could have. He _loves_ him. Surely he wouldn't have tried to kill him over a stone. Thorin isn't . . . he doesn't _seem_ violent. I don't understand it." Gandalf sighed tiredly. This wasn't what he had feared would be said but it was still a difficult thing to explain.

"That is a hard thing for me to explain, Frodo," Gandalf breathed. "I was not there to witness it myself but . . . Thorin's family has a long history of, well, madness. Gold madness specifically. You are right when you say that Thorin is not violent—unless you are a Goblin, Orc, Warg or someone threatening his family, that is—or at least he is not violent when he is in his right mind. The sight of the gold . . . from what I heard, it drove him mad.

"From what the others have told me, he was not himself. He did not eat or sleep. His only focus was on the gold and one treasure in particular."

"The Arkenstone," Frodo said. Gandalf nodded sadly.

"The same," the wizard agreed, sadness etched into every line of his ancient face. "Your uncle, bless his soul, found it and rather than give it to Thorin tried to end a war with it. He couldn't have predicted the outcome of his actions, though anyone else could have. What you have to understand about Thorin Oakenshield . . . he had experienced much loss in his life. More than any being _should_.

"He lost his mother the day that Smaug took Erebor from them when he was only twenty-four—still very much a child to the dwarves—and then a scant twenty-nine years later his grandfather and younger brother were killed in battle. Fifty-one years after that his father disappeared leaving him to take the mantle of King and leaving him with just his sister and two young nephews as family.

"That is not to speak on the other losses he suffered. He lost his kingdom, his dignity . . . he lost everything. Due to all those losses, by the time your uncle came along, Thorin had walled himself off from everyone. He was cold, not _cruel_ but he did not truly allow himself to become attached to things or people for fear of losing them as well." Gandalf paused and a gentle smile crossed his face before he continued.

"Your uncle," Gandalf said, his eyes shining with pride, "Bilbo is one of the most _extraordinary _beings I have ever met in my life. Not only did he singlehandedly save the quest from failure more than once, he also managed to sneak his way past Thorin's defenses. _That_, my boy, is part of the reason they are so incorrigible. Thorin and Bilbo had both been isolated for far too long and when they found someone to cling to . . . well, can we _truly_ fault them for being exuberant about it?"

"But how does any of that explain what he did?" Frodo asked. He wasn't sure why Gandalf had told him any of that. It wasn't that he didn't want to know about his uncle's lover, but all it did was make his heart ache for the dwarf. Especially since he knew that Thorin had also lost his nephews. It seemed cruel that he had been forced to endure so much loss.

"It explains it," Gandalf offered closing his eyes at the pain of the memory. "Bilbo was the _one_ being that Thorin trusted other than his family and Bilbo took the one treasure that was the most precious to him and—instead of giving it to him—gave it to the armies that were marching on him. I am _not_ defending his actions. He was wrong in what he did to Bilbo. However, I can understand _why_ he felt betrayed. He trusted Bilbo, brought him into his home, let him into his _heart_, and Bilbo stole from him to give to people making war on him. It wasn't only gold madness that caused Thorin to lash out at your uncle as he did: it was heartbreak. Bilbo broke his heart. Unintentionally, but he did it all the same."

"So did Uncle Bilbo get the same lecture that Thorin did?" Frodo asked in curiosity. He couldn't quite imagine Gandalf _truly_ lecturing Bilbo . . . at least not successfully. And the mental image of his uncle, who approximately half of Gandalf's size, glaring up at the wizard and saying "no Gandalf, _you_ see here" nearly made the young hobbit laugh.

"Heavens no!" Gandalf said, looking affronted that Frodo would suggest such a thing. "Your uncle was _heartbroken_, nearly inconsolable. And then Thorin died and it was not appropriate to explain to him _why_ he had gotten the reaction he had. Bilbo was depressed enough about Thorin's death. I did not feel the need to rub salt in his wounds by telling him that their falling out was due to a misunderstanding of Thorin's past on his part. I am many things, Frodo Baggins, cruel is not one of them."

"I didn't mean to imply that you were, Gandalf," Frodo offered looking up at the wizard with a sad smile.

"I know you didn't, my dear boy. I know you did not," Gandalf replied patting Frodo's shoulder gently. "I apologize for my anger. This was an unpleasant topic and I was . . ."

"Don't worry, Gandalf," Frodo offered with a bright smile on his face. He knew better than to be cross with Gandalf for his flare of temper. Bilbo had always warned him that the wizard—and wizards in general—was quick to anger and not likely to give straight answers unless it suited him and that Frodo would just have to live with that if he wanted to live at all.

"Hobbits really are much too forgiving," Gandalf said with a fond smile. He may have been talking to Frodo, but it was not just Frodo on his mind. As he spoke, Bilbo's crumbled tear-streaked face in the Elf/Human camp at the base of the Lonely Mountain swam to the front of his memory. He only hoped that it would be an expression he would never see again.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Inside Bag End, the dwarves were also discussing the past. The second that Frodo and Gandalf had shut the door behind them Balin and Bofur had rounded on Dwalin wordlessly demanding that he tell them what he had seen sixty years ago. Dwalin looked at them levelly for a moment.

"Brother, Bofur, I will only ask this once," Dwalin said solemnly. "What I saw has haunted me since I had the unfortunate experience of walking in on them. Are you certain that you _truly_ want to know?"

"With a lead up like that?" Bofur said, his usual cocky grin in place. "Of course I do. If it can haunt _you_, I _have _to know!" Balin, while less vocal, also agreed with a nod of his head. Dwalin sighed deeply before he began to recount the scene that he had been the unfortunate witness to sixty years before. As he spoke both Bofur and Balin paled considerably and their eyes went wide in shock.

"Bilbo was . . . _he_ was . . ." Bofur said trying to wrap his head around the idea that Bilbo was doing _that_ to Thorin. He would never have figured that the king would allow something like _that_ to happen.

"_While_ he was . . . is that even possible?" Balin asked, a confused and vaguely disgusted look on his face. He had considered himself a rather adventurous dwarf in his youth but . . . he'd never done _anything_ to rival that. To think, a dwarf had been beaten in the realm of sexual adventurism by a _hobbit_.

"Apparently," Dwalin said dryly. "Bilbo was doing it so it must be."

"And Thorin was _letting _him?" Bofur insisted. "He wasn't . . . tied up or something?"

"I saw many things," Dwalin replied with a shudder as the image of naked pale flesh against naked tanned, haired flesh streaked through his mind once more, "bonds weren't one of them." The two dwarves that hadn't witnessed the event shared horrified glances. If it wasn't for the fact that _Dwalin_ had been traumatized by it they would have accused him of having one over on them. It was just too outrageous. There was no way that _Bilbo _had been . . . no it was too much. They were only sure of one thing: they would never be able to look at their ex-king or their ex-burglar the same way again.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin and Bilbo had been walking in a companionable silence ever since they left the forge. The night was quiet and there was no one about. The dwarf had been thinking about the conversation he and Bilbo had had earlier all day and he had come to a decision. Now all he had to do was convince Bilbo that it was a good idea. Not an easy task. The hobbit was more stubborn than most dwarves Thorin had met in his life time. Perhaps surprising him with it would be his best bet.

"A hobbit," Thorin said suddenly. Bilbo looked at him as though he had lost his mind. That was a rather random thing for the dwarf to say and Thorin rarely said random things. Even if he was more talkative now than he had been at the beginning of the quest, he never said things that did not need saying in some way.

"I'm sorry?" Bilbo asked quietly. If he hadn't been sure that he heard an "a" in front of the word "hobbit" he might have assumed that Thorin was addressing him as he had at the start of the quest.

"I've thought about it and if we get a child I would like it to be a hobbit," Thorin clarified, looking warily at Bilbo. He wasn't sure how his lover was going to take the fact that he hadn't dropped the subject. At the first _hint_ of madness he was prepared to let if pass for now.

"Really?" Bilbo said, his tone showing his surprise. "I'd figured that you would want a dwarf. They're sturdier than hobbits and you could teach it all manner of dwarvish things that you can't teach a hobbit."

"Aye, dwarves are sturdier than hobbits," Thorin replied with a smile, "but that is irrelevant. Hobbits have a surprising strength in them. I can still teach a hobbit many things that I would teach a dwarfling. As my adopted child I can technically teach it whatever I desire. It will be an honorary dwarf, much like you, âzyungâl." Bilbo could tell that Thorin had used the Khuzdul word both because he knew that Bilbo liked it and to prove his point that he had already allowed Bilbo into the secret world of the dwarves.

"Yes," Bilbo agreed, "but would it not be easier with a dwarfling?"

"It might be," Thorin said with a shrug. "However a dwarfling poses additional problems. Not only are dwarflings rare, they age very slowly. If we were to adopt one less than fifty years old it is possible that even I would not be able to see it to maturity. It would not do to adopt an orphan only to orphan it again. Hobbits, with your shorter lifespans, do not pose this challenge. Even if we were to somehow acquire a newborn, I'm nearly guaranteed another sixty years of life—unless something comes along to end me prematurely—I would nearly see our child to the end of his or her life."

"That makes sense," Bilbo said. "So a hobbitling. Do you have a preference on gender? I'm not saying that we will be able to choose something like that, or that I am agreeing to this just yet, but if we are planning we may as well do it right." Thorin felt a smirk cross his features and thanked Mahal that it was dark enough that Bilbo could not see it. If Bilbo was planning that far ahead the battle was won. It was like Balin had said about the settlement and Thorin moving in: Bilbo just wanted to drag his feet a bit and bluster about before he consented to it. But he would consent in the end.

"I would prefer . . . I believe I would like a little she-hobbit," Thorin said with a smile. He had already raised two boys and girls were so rare among the dwarves. Even had he had children of his own the odds of having a daughter had been slim. If he could choose, he would like a daughter. He had no kingdom to worry about needing an heir for and this would make it easier on the succession at any rate. Even if she was not a dwarf, any child of his _would_ be of the senior line to the throne and _could_ disinherit Dáin's son. A daughter would eliminate this difficulty as daughters were ineligible to rule.

"A she-hobbit?" Bilbo asked with a laugh. "You do know that they are nothing but trouble, right? There's a reason I never married a hobbit lass."

"I'm glad that you think so," Thorin said, pulling his lover against him and leaning down to plant a tender kiss on his lips. "Had you have married a hobbit lass I would never have been able to claim you as my own. However, after the two terrors _I _have already raised a little she-hobbitling can't be any trouble." At his words Bilbo's eyes grew sad and he raised a hand to gently stroke Thorin's face with the pad of his thumb.

"Are you _sure_ that you want to do this?" Bilbo asked. "I do not actually _need_ a child. I don't want you to feel that you need to do this to please me. I know that it won't be easy for you. Not with . . ."

"I'm certain," Thorin promised. "I would like to raise a child with you. Yes, at times it may hurt me but I . . . it will be worth it. That may be the other reason I want a hobbitling rather than a dwarfling. I hadn't realized it until now, but that could be a factor. A little dwarfling . . . even if it didn't look like _them_ . . . I'm not sure that I could endure that."

"You don't have to endure it at all if you don't wish to," Bilbo reminded him. Even as he looked at his lover he could see the pain fading to determination and knew that Thorin _truly_ wanted this. Bilbo had never been able to deny the dwarf anything and he knew that in the end this would be no different. Even if he was far too old for this, he knew that soon he would become a father.

"I'll agree to this," Bilbo said with a resigned sigh. "You can have your little she-hobbit _if _we can find one. On_ one_ condition."

"Name it," Thorin breathed. He couldn't believe that Bilbo had given in so quickly. He had expected this to take months of careful hints and coercion to get Bilbo to agree. He figured that the condition would be something about Bilbo not being the one to change diapers or something to that effect. He should have known better. Bilbo was a shrewd little creature and knew that he held a powerful bargaining chip.

"Before we try to find to find a child, _you_ have to go talk to the mother of your boys," Bilbo said, his tone allowing for no argument. "You have to _at least_ _attempt_ to make peace with your sister." Thorin sighed. Of course _that_ would be the condition he had agreed to without asking to hear it first. That was evil of Bilbo. But Thorin could see no way around it. He wanted to try to find a child and he needed to attempt to make peace with Dís _and_ he had already agreed to it.

"Fine," Thorin said sadly. "I will try to make peace with my sister. You are aware that you may be forcing me to my death, are you not?" Bilbo scoffed at that, thinking that Thorin was being melodramatic. "I am not joking. Dís may very well behead me. I took her _sons_, Bilbo. She won't forgive me even if I come to her on my knees. She's _not_ going to be pleased to see me."

"Well then," Bilbo said with a sad smile, "I suppose that I'll have to come with you then." Thorin snorted at that. He had a sudden mental picture of Bilbo standing between him and Dís, brandishing Sting and telling his sister that she was not to touch him. What he didn't have the heart to tell Bilbo was that Dís was more formidable than Bilbo could ever imagine. He would stand no chance against her . . . or he wouldn't have sixty years ago. Thorin didn't know if Dís could still wield an axe or not, though he assumed that she still could. He knew that he'd probably find out. He tried to keep his voice light and clung to the funnier mental image than the last depressing thought.

"You will defend me from my sister?" Thorin asked wryly, lifting an eyebrow at the idea.

"I'll try if that's what it comes down to," Bilbo replied. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of 'I'll come along so that if she kills you she can kill me too.' I don't want to outlive you _again_. Not so soon." By the end of his speech all the laughter was gone from his voice and he sounded as though he was near tears. Thorin pulled him into his chest, burying his nose in the soft curls and breathing in his scent as Bilbo fought for control of his emotions.

"I won't let that happen," Thorin promised. It was a baseless promise and they both knew it. Thorin could no more assure his own survival than he could predict the weather or remember directions. "I won't force you to live without me again, my dear Bilbo." Once Bilbo was in control once more, they resumed the walk home.

Neither of them knew what the future would bring, but they were content that they had a workable plan for the time being. Thorin would visit Dís, a small army of dwarves was going to descend on the Shire, and they were going to adopt a hobbitling. It looked like a brilliant plan. However, both of them had enough experience with "brilliant" plans to know that _something_ was going to go wrong. They just didn't know what it would be.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, another chapter out. I hope that you enjoyed it. And if you are just dying of curiosity about what **_**exactly **_**Thorin and Bilbo were doing, chapter two of "Past and Present Entwined" is called 'Traumatizing Dwalin' and gives you as much detail as you want :)**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Guest: ****I'm glad that I can amp up the love for this fic with each chapter :) It's rapidly becoming my favorite of my fics. I hope you enjoyed the newest update :)**

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**Guest:**** Thank you! I'm glad that you think that I have done a good job of it :) And yeah, I've noticed . . . you just have to keep in mind that a lot of the writers on this site are young writers. They will get better with age :) and there really are some gems in the mix.**

**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	20. Chapter 20

As had happened the night before, dinner was on the table by the time Thoirn and Bilbo made it home. Only that day, no snide comments greeted them. The others were seated at the table waiting patiently for them to return. Frodo and Gandalf were chatting amicably still while Balin, Dwalin and Bofur were staring blankly at the table in an effort to look anywhere but a Bilbo and Thorin. Balin and Bofur were regretting their decision to force Dwalin to tell them what he had seen. And it was a situation that only became more awkward when Bilbo began speaking with Gandalf.

"Did you two have a pleasant evening?" Gandalf asked with a smile as he watched Thorin and Bilbo sit down side by side on the bench and Bilbo move closer to Thorin before the dwarf wrapped an arm around the hobbit and began to eat with one hand.

"It was hot," Bilbo said with a sigh. "I don't know how he manages to stand it so well. I was sweating just watching him. I even had to go outside to cool off more than once. But he never even needed a break."

"Dwarves are made for forges, Bilbo," Thorin reminded him gently. "Our skin is thicker and better able to resist the heat. If it is too uncomfortable for you, you truly do no need to accompany me to work. I've been there twice now, I am sure that I can find my way home again."

"I enjoy watching you work," Bilbo countered. "It is . . . nice to see you focused so intently on something. When that something isn't your rage at me, that is."

"My dear hobbit, I have not raged at you in more than sixty years," Thorin replied. "And, if I remember correctly, you tended to enjoy what came after the rages."

"I did," Bilbo agreed with a smirk. "Most of the time anyway."

"Why would you . . . oh!" Frodo said blushing as he realized why Bilbo would enjoy the aftermath of Thorin's rage. It wasn't just Frodo who was blushing at the thought of what Bilbo had just said. A slight flush had crept up all the dwarves' necks as they wondered if Thorin _enjoyed_ the consequences of enraging the hobbit as well. Even though none of the truly wanted to know they couldn't help but wonder if Bilbo _took _his revenge from Thoirn for his grievances or if they simply talked those out.

"So, Thorin," Balin said trying to change the subject back to forging rather than the turn that it had taken, "how are you liking working as a blacksmith once more." Balin was rewarded with a soft smile that made his heart soar. He had never seen such a peaceful expression on Thorin's face since they were children.

"It pleases me," Thorin replied. "While my heart will always wish that I was able to work with more precious metals than iron, I cannot deny that I am enjoying it. And the hobbit smith, Tom, he's a kind, honest person. That is one more complication that we will have to address. I know that we talked of opening a forge here, but if we do it will put him out of business." Thorin paused a moment looking at each of them before he continued.

"This is an unacceptable outcome," Thorin continued. "He has shown me a great kindness by opening his forge to me. He has already allowed me to earn the reward I was promised." The others exchanged looks at that. It had only been two days. Surely Thorin hadn't done enough work in two days to pay for the materials for a sword. "I will _not_ repay his kindness by ruining him."

"What else can we do in the Shire?" Balin asked quietly. "Bofur can make toys but …"

"The way I see it we have a couple of options," Thorin replied. "Most of you—no, _all_ of the company that will be coming with you still have to be wealthy. There is no way that any of you have gone through your fourteenth even in sixty years. The first option is that you could all move here and _not_ work but instead spend your days in leisure." There was a bit of an outcry at that. Dwarves were above all else craftsmen and the idea that they would spend the rest of their lives idle was ludicrous. Thorin smiled into his beard as he took in their angered protests. He had known that they would react poorly to that statement and that it would make his next suggestion all the easier to accept.

"There is another way," Thorin said in a slightly raised voice, his hand in the air to signal that he desired quiet. They fell silent at the gesture through years of practice at following him, but their glares did not lessen. "We could _merge_ the forges. He could work with us and bring all of his clients with him. Our fame as skilled smiths would draw even more from the surrounding lands. Few are willing to travel to Ered Luin or Erebor for dwarven craftsmanship but would be willing to travel to the Shire. We can even work on different things. With enough of us there, we could all take time to work on what we truly wish rather than just iron."

"You want us to merge forges with a _hobbit_?" Dwalin breathed. Thorin had to be mad! There was no way that any self-respecting dwarf smith would work side-by-side with a hobbit.

"And just what is wrong with hobbits, Dwalin?" Bilbo demanded glaring at the dwarf from across the table, the now-familiar spark that Thorin had come to both hate and fear in his hazel eyes. "You seemed rather keen to move in amongst us before. What is wrong with working with one?"

"Bilbo," Thorin whispered gently trying to calm Bilbo before this could escalate into an argument. He stood a chance if Dwalin saw the warning signs and would keep his mouth closed. "Dwalin didn't mean anything offensive by it. He was only—"

"What's wrong with working with one is that a hobbit will only slow us down," Dwalin snapped glaring back at Bilbo in return. "Nothing against your race, Bilbo, but you neither have the strength nor the endurance of the dwarves. What you said about the forge proves it. You had to leave. Every second spent outside cooling off is a second that could have been spent at work. Hobbits have no place in dwarven forges." If Thorin could have reached Dwalin without releasing Bilbo he would have smacked him upside the head for that. There was no way that with the madness stirring Bilbo would let such a statement go unanswered. He sighed as he heard Bilbo's enraged intake of air.

"As if dwarves are so wonderful!" Bilbo snapped rising angrily to his feet and nearly upending the bench in the process. "If you remember, despite my lack of strength and endurance I _still_ managed to save _your_ worthless hide more than once. If it wasn't for me, _a hobbit_, you would be dead and not able to say such foolish things! Why—"

"Bilbo, please," Thorin said taking his hand and trying to pull him back into his seat. "Please, Dwalin meant no disrespect to hobbits. Just sit. He is sorry that he upset you, aren't you Dwalin?"

"I am?" Dwalin asked in confusion just as Bilbo snorted and said, "He's not. He meant every word that he said."

"No," Thorin promised standing to pull the irate hobbit against him when it was clear that Bilbo would not sit. The stiffness in the way that Bilbo held himself away from Thorin hurt him but he did not let go. Instead he held Bilbo more tightly against him and bent to whisper in his ear.

"He did not mean it," Thorin whispered fervently as he stroked Bilbo's hair. "Dwalin does not think that hobbits are worthless. He doesn't think that _you _are worthless and you are a hobbit. And he cares for Frodo, does he not. Frodo is a hobbit. Calm yourself, âzyungâl. It was not meant as it came across. He is only concerned about our ancient secrets, not the worth of hobbits. Just breathe." He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Bilbo begin to relax into his touch. The madness was passing. This time.

"That's it," Thorin praised. "Just like that. Relax." Suddenly with a shudder Bilbo relaxed fully against him before pulling back and looking at him through sad hazel eyes.

"Again?" Bilbo asked sadly. Thorin said nothing but his eyes said it for him. Bilbo had lost himself again. "I . . . I think that I will . . . I'm going to have a bath," Bilbo said in a shaky voice before he turned and walked out of the room leaving his dinner on the table untouched.

Once he was gone, the others turned to Thorin.

"What was that about?" Bofur demanded. "Why did he . . . what Dwalin said wasn't _that_ bad. Why did it upset him so much?" Thorin sighed and sat back down before resting his head in his hands. He knew that he was going to have to tell them eventually. Bilbo would not stop his descent into madness just because Thorin wished it and perhaps if they knew they could help to avoid these trips before they happened. They needed to know, he just wasn't sure how to tell them.

"How long has it been since you all have seen Bilbo?" he asked in return as he looked from one concerned face to another. He had wondered just how long this had been going on and this was his chance to discover it.

"I don't—" Balin begain.

"Please, just answer the question," Thoirn said with a sigh. "It is important."

"How long has it been, lads?" Balin asked in confusion. "Seven, eight years. Why?"

"Gandalf?" Thorin asked looking at the wizard hopefully. Perhaps he could narrow the window of time further. "How long as it been since you have visited?"

"A year, more or less," Gandalf replied. "I come to see him as often as I can and every year near his birthday. Why do you ask?"

"Have any of you noticed anything strange about him in any of your previous visits?" Thorin asked rather than answer their questions. "Any random changes in mood. Anger that seems to come from nowhere."

"You mean like what happened the other day in the market and again in the entry?" Dwalin asked. Thorin nodded sadly. "No," Dwalin said. "He's never done anything like that before. If he had I probably would not have come back to visit him again." Thorin nodded.

"What happened the other day at the market?" Gandalf asked, concern in his voice at the fact that Bilbo had done something that would prevent Dwalin from returning to visit him again. The two of them had grown close over the years, despite their initial opinions of one another.

"Bilbo . . . Bilbo lost his temper over a comment Dwalin made about his private life with me," Thorin replied. "It wasn't even a graphic comment. And then once we returned home, he . . ." Thorin trailed off not wanting to bring up what had happened next. He was _still _thankful that Dwalin had decided to forgive Bilbo for hitting him.

"Bilbo what?" Gandalf pressed, his brows coming together as he listened to the erratic behavior that Bilbo had been demonstrating lately. It troubled him.

"He punched me," Dwalin said his own tone edging towards anger. "All I said was that if he under too much stress that he and Thorin should just take the edge off and he _punched_ me in the nose. It was rather impressive," he continued, laughter in his tone now. "He even managed to draw blood."

"_Bilbo_ punched you in the nose and drew blood?" Gandalf asked incredulously. "The same Bilbo who did everything in his power to prevent bloodshed. I don't believe it."

"He did," Bofur confirmed. "Took both me and Balin to keep him from doing more. I didn't know that Bilbo was that strong. You may be wrong about hobbit's being weaker than dwarves, Dwalin. He almost overpowered two of us to get to you."

"He nearly overpowered you _and_ Balin?" Gandalf asked growing more concerned the more that he heard. This was quite unlike Bilbo. And it _should_ have been beyond his physical capabilities to overpower _one_ of the dwarves, let alone two. No there was something else at work here. Something sinister.

"But that was the last of it until tonight," Balin said quietly. "He's been normal ever since."

"No," Thorin disagreed sadly. "He hasn't. Yesterday when we were in the market it happened again. He was jealous of the way the other hobbits were speaking with me and . . . and I realized what it was that we have been seeing. Bilbo . . . when he gets like that, it's not _him_ behind his eyes. He's gone and in his place is something cruel and cold. It says thing that Bilbo never would."

"Does it lie?" Gandalf asked suddenly his blue eyes boring into Thorin and pinning the dwarf on the spot. At the mention of the split personalities Gandalf was suddenly and forcefully reminded of the creature Gollum that Bilbo had met in the Misty Mountains and the Ring that he had possessed. The Ring that Bilbo now had. Gandalf had always felt uneasy around that little bit of gold and there were too many coincidences piling up to be overlooked any longer. The Ring needed to be separated from Bilbo.

"I don't believe so," Thorin said, fighting back tears at what Bilbo had said to him while under the sway of the madness. "I believe that it speaks the truth, but it is a _dark_ painful truth. He . . . he had a lapse this morning. We were talking about braids and he . . . he went mad. He got that look in his eyes and . . . he talked about what happened _that day_." None of them needed to ask which day Thorin was referring to. They all knew that there was only one day Bilbo could bring up that would torture Thorin so.

"What did he say?" Gandalf prompted. It was important for him to know what the other personality had said. If it had spoken the truth . . . Gandalf almost hoped that it had lied. If it was speaking the truth, even a twisted version of it . . . he needed to know.

"Please, Gandalf," Thorin begged. "Don't make me relive that. It was painful enough the first time. I know that Bilbo would never say such things to me, but even if it wasn't his eyes that were looking at me it was his voice that the words were in and his mouth that were forming them. Please don't make me relive that."

"Thorin," Gandalf said gently, placing a hand on the back of the upset dwarf's. Even if he was pleased to see that Thorin was capable of such openness it hurt him to see such pain and regret in another being. "Thorin, I may be able to help." The hope in Thorin's blue eyes broke Gandalf's heart and he regretted ever thinking that the dwarf was back for an ill purpose.

"However for me to be able to do anything I _must_ know if the other personality lies," Gandalf said levelly. "Now, what did he say to you?"

"He said . . . he told me that he was only alive because of you," Thorin said unable to meet the wizard's eyes due to his embarrassment over the situation. "He said that I would never have shown him mercy even had he have begged and that if it wasn't for you the last sound I would have heard from him would have been his screams of terror and agony as I threw him to his death." The others winced at the pain in Thorin voice as he repeated Bilbo's accusations. Those were harsh words. While they were true, _Bilbo_ would never have said them. Not to Thorin.

"He also said that he would have died knowing that I had killed him," Thorin whispered, his words choked with the tears he refused to shed. "And then . . . then he said that . . . that I nearly killed him anyway. Apparently the bruises from where I had grabbed him were deep enough that his arms were nearly useless . . . he said . . . he said that the bruises lasted nearly a month and that if . . . if it hadn't been for his magic Ring he would have died in the battle . . . because of me." Gandalf felt his eyes widen in surprise. Not only had Bilbo not lied, he had mentioned the Ring as his salvation. It did not bode well. Gandalf had always intended to separate Bilbo from the Ring after this birthday but now he knew that it was more important than ever that it happen. Bilbo would have to be parted from the Ring. For the first time he realized just how difficult a task this might be.

"Thorin," Balin said reaching across the table to grab the other dwarf's hand, "he didn't mean it. Bilbo would never—"

"No, Bilbo would never," Thorin agreed. "But that doesn't mean that what he said wasn't true. Tell me, Gandalf, you traveled with him on his trip home, he told me. How long did the bruises last?"

"Throin," Gandalf said gently. "Do not torture yourself with this. Much like with what passed between you and Bilbo this morning, you were not yourself. You would never touch Bilbo in such a way. You do not need to ask me that. I know what I needed to know. We can allow this matter to drop."

"Answer me," Thorin ordered. "How long did the bruises I left on his skin last? Were they truly there for a month?"

"They were," Gandalf replied sadly. "I saw them the evening after you banished him and they were black-purple. Over the next few weeks they faded. Even once they were mostly gone you could still see the discoloration for a little over a month if you knew where to look. But, Thorin, just like with Bilbo now, _you_ did not do that to him. He knows it. Elsewise you would not now be sitting here at his table." Throin couldn't help but smile at Gandalf's words. Once, the wizard's meddling and advice would have angered him but now . . . now he took comfort in the fact that Gandalf, at least, understood.

"What I told you," Thorin asked hopefully, "did it help? Can you help me to help him stave off this madness? I _can't_ lose him, Gandalf. Not again."

"I do not know that I can fix this," Gandalf relied honestly. "But I do believe that I know the cause of it. It may take both of us to accomplish it, and we will have to be careful about it, but I do believe that I can at the very least keep this from growing any worse. I cannot promise that the brief lapses will stop entirely, but I do believe that what I have planned will keep us from losing him to it entirely."

"That is more than I had hoped for," Throin replied honestly. "What do I need to do?" While Gandalf and Thorin planned, the others went into the sitting room to give them some space. They were all unnerved by what they had just learned but none more so than Dwalin.

He was furious with himself. Usually he was glad to be the one that had accomplished things most frequently—as with his record in making poor Frodo faint—but this? It was a record that he did not want. His friend was suffering from madness and something about him seemed to provoke it. This was the third time that he had done it. And he hadn't even noticed that the Bilbo that was raging at him was not the Bilbo that he had known for _sixty_ years. He hadn't recognized madness in a friend that he had had for _sixty_ years. He hated himself for not realizing it sooner.

"None of us knew, Brother," Balin said quietly from beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "None of us realized what it meant. You can't blame yourself for this."

"Even I didn't know," Frodo offered sadly. "I've lived with him for twelve years and I didn't realize that it was anything other than stress. There has been quite a lot of it lately, between the party and you lot and Thorin. It made sense to me that Bilbo's temper would be a little short."

"Thorin knew," Bofur said suddenly, his face lacking any trace of his usual smile. "He hasn't seen Bilbo in sixty years and _he_ knew."

"Thorin knows Bilbo better than any of us ever could hope to," Balin argued. "I'd wager that he has seen sides of him that no one else ever has or ever will." Dwalin couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at the words.

"I have no desire to see some of the _sides_ of Bilbo that Thorin has seen," Dwalin managed to say in a choked voice.

"Nor do I," Frodo agreed. "I may love my uncle, but I do not love him _that_ way." They all agreed with Frodo and Dwalin. None of them had any desire to see their dear friend in _that_ position. But all of them would gladly endure the mental scarring if it meant that it would spare Bilbo from what he was currently going through.

**ooOO88OOoo**

For the first time since Thorin had returned, Bilbo was alone. There had been times in the past where he would have given or done almost anything for just an hour of solitude but now . . . he didn't want it. He _wanted _to be able to sit out there and talk and laugh with his old friends without worrying that he would suddenly snap without reason and assault one of them. Ever since Thorin had figured out what was going on he had been making active attempts to keep it from happening but it wasn't fair of Bilbo to force him to do it. Thorin should not have to stay by his side and watch him for any sign of madness. It was cruel.

Bilbo knew for a fact just how difficult it was to watch someone you love turn into someone who you didn't know: who you were afraid of. And it had to be doubly difficult for Thorin, who had already lost his grandfather to the madness, to have to _watch_ as Bilbo lost himself. At least when Thorin had gone mad it had been a sudden thing. One day he was Thorin and the next . . . he wasn't. With this . . . Bilbo hated himself for what he was putting Thorin through. It was cruel.

Even at his angriest and most hurt Bilbo would _never _have wished this on another. This was nothing short of torture for both of them. Bilbo, since he knew that he was hurting the one that he loved most in the world and because he _feared_ what he was becoming. He had seen it. He _knew_ what someone in the throes of madness was capable of. What he had already done. Even if Thorin didn't hold his actions that morning against him, Bilbo did. He had held a sword to his lover's throat. He had almost killed him. And Thorin . . . for the first time Bilbo began to wonder if the Valar were as good as he had been led to believe. He couldn't help but wonder if they had brought Thorin to _this_ point in time just to punish him. If they had . . . he hated that he was the instrument of their torture.

Bilbo wasn't sure how long he had sat alone in the bath with his dark thoughts but eventually he was startled by a pair of arms wrapping around him from behind and a gentle kiss to the side of his neck.

"I thought that you once told me that you would never take a cold bath again once the quest was done," Thorin whispered.

"I haven't," Bilbo replied before clearing his throat at the hoarse sound of his own voice. "This was a hot bath."

"_Was_," Thorin agreed. "The water's gone cold, Bilbo. Come on, crawl out and I'll run us a fresh one."

"It's fine," Bilbo replied morosely. "I don't deserve a warm bath. Maybe if we're lucky I'll catch another cold and put us both out of our misery."

"Bilbo," Thorin sighed frustrated that Bilbo was feeling this upset over something that he had no control over and moving to try to look at Bilbo's face, but the hobbit resolutely kept turning away from him.

"No," Bilbo whispered brokenly. "We'd both be better off if I were dead. I can't stand hurting you like this. I . . . I can't control it, Thorin. And it's getting worse. What will happen if—"

"Stop," Thorin commanded gently as he grasped Bilbo's chin and forced the hobbit to look at him. "Neither of us would be better off with you dead so you just put that thought out of your head, Bilbo Baggins. You are _not_ allowed to think like that."

"But what I'm putting you through . . . it's cruel. I should just . . ." Bilbo sobbed trying to pull away from Thorin, but the dwarf was not allowing it.

"No," Thorin argued. "What would be cruel is for you to take your own life and force me to live out the remainder of my life alone. Not that it wouldn't be fair since it is what I did to you, in essence, but _that_ would be cruel. Not this. This is _not_ your fault, Bilbo. I _do not_ hold this against you."

"But, you shouldn't have to—"

"How about you let me decide what I have to do when it comes to you, alright?" Thorin countered. "I think that I am old enough to make my own decisions about what I wish to do with my lover, am I not?"

"You are, but—"

"Then it's decided. Now get out of the tub and let me change the water," Thorin said in a no-nonsense voice. "_You _may not care about cold bathwater but _I _do. I have taken far too many cold baths in my life and have no intention of taking another. Not when hot water is only a pipe away."

"Fine," Bilbo sighed. "But if you ever do get tired of dealing with me, I will understand if you leave. I wouldn't blame you." He stood to step out of the tub only realizing for the first time just how cold his water had actually grown. Even the warm air of the bathroom felt cold against his chilled skin.

"Foolish hobbit," Thorin said as he pulled the still sopping Bilbo against him not missing the slight shivers that were running through the hobbit. "Haven't you realized yet that I will not be parted from you again? You would have to kill me to get rid of me and I have already promised you that I will not allow that. You're just going to have to tolerate me for the rest of your life."

"I think I can live with that," Bilbo said with a smile as he rested his head against Thorin's chest, the steady beat beneath his cheek did more to soothe his fragile feelings than hundreds of words could have. It was the proof of what Thorin promised, that pulse. It was as strong and stable as the dwarf himself and Bilbo wasn't sure how he had lived without it for so long. For the first time in a long time he was not preoccupied about what the future contained. He knew that there would be challenges, his own descent into madness among them, but he also knew that Thorin would be there with him through them all. It truly was something that he could live with.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all :) A new chapter. Sorry about the delay, as some of you may know my computer died and I only got a new one on Monday (yes, I know that it has been three whole days and I could have updated :( I'm sorry) and now things should get back on track :) I hope you enjoyed this update, late as it was :). At least I made it a long one to make up for it :)**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

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**Stickdonkeys**


	21. Chapter 21

It took some time to get them both bathed. Despite Bilbo's promise that he would not actively end his own life, he was still upset by the twists fate had thrown their way and was not much help. He would follow direct orders and would hold himself in whatever position Thorin placed him in, but he would do nothing if it was not ordered of him. His face remained blank and he stared aimlessly into the distance with unseeing eyes. This listlessness broke Thorin's heart almost more than the madness itself did. At least during the brief bouts of madness Bilbo still had fire within him. This . . . there was nothing left of the hobbit Thorin loved. Bilbo was broken and there was nothing that Thorin could do to fix him.

With gentle hands and soft, firm words, Thorin coaxed Bilbo out of the tub and back into clean clothes to make the trek through the house back to their room. Bilbo allowed himself to be led, but his eyes never rose to meet Thorin's concerned gaze. Once there he sat listlessly on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. Thorin spent a moment placing his things on the dresser before he turned to the hobbit.

"Bilbo," he said, his voice holding the undercurrent of command that was all that seemed to reach his hobbit at the moment, "look at me." While it was clear that the movement was a reluctant one, Bilbo complied with the order, though once he had Thorin almost wished that he would have refused. There was such pain in his hazel eyes that Thorin had no idea how to even begin to soothe it away.

"You can't do this to yourself," Thorin said kneeling before the hobbit and placing his hands gently on either side of Bilbo's face. "You cannot continue to torture yourself like this."

"Why not?" Bilbo replied miserably, reaching up slowly to touch Thorin's cheek and run his thumb over the dwarf's cheekbone just below his eye. "I can see what I have done to you. Even when you were dying your eyes didn't hold this much pain. And it's my fault!" With the last words he pulled his hand away and tried to turn his head only to be stopped by the inescapable force of Thorin's hands.

"No," Thorin disagreed. "It pains me to see you going through what you are going through, but that is not your fault, Bilbo. You cannot control the madness, you have told me as much yourself. I cannot hold you responsible for something that you have no control over any more than you can hold me responsible for the fact that I died. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

"But—"

"No," Thorin cut him off. "I will hear no more of this, Bilbo. If you want me to try to help you I will but I will _not_ listen to you blaming yourself for this. I _will not_ sit by and watch as you allow guilt to eat you whole. You are stronger than this, Bilbo Baggins. What happened to the hobbit that stood toe-to-toe with three trolls and tried to talk his way out of being eaten, and now you are going to allow your own guilt to devour you? What about the Bilbo Baggins that played riddles in the darkness of the Misty Mountains to keep from becoming a meal? You _are_ strong enough to survive this as well.

"Even if you don't believe it, trust me," Thorin continued with a deep sigh. "If you do not believe that you are stronger than this then clearly I know you better than you know yourself. You can defeat this, Bilbo. And . . . I am here to help. You are not alone in this, Bilbo. I am here. Gandalf is here. Dwalin, Balin and Bofur are here. And you have Frodo. That lad _loves_ you, Bilbo. We all do. Let us help."

"How can I?" Bilbo asked, tears leaking from his eyes once more. "How can I do that, Thorin? It is not fair of me to force that on you. On them. You, all of you, deserve better than to babysit some mad hobbit and watch me to see if something innocent is about to turn me into a murderous _orc_. How can I ask that of you? How can I burden you like that?"

"You are not asking it, Bilbo," Thorin said drawing the hobbit against him and laying them both on the bed. "We are offering it because we love you. You are no burden to me. You never have been. No matter what I may have once said. I love you and will take you as you are, madness included. All I will ask in return is that you not force me to watch as you berate yourself for things you have no control over. Does that sound fair?"

"I will try, Thorin," Bilbo sighed resting his head on the dwarf's shoulder. "I can make no promises but I _will_ try."

"That's all I ask," Thorin replied pressing a gentle chaste kiss to Bilbo's curls. "Sleep, âzyungâl," Thorin whispered, stroking Bilbo's back soothingly. "I am certain that things will look better in the morning." Bilbo wasn't sure that he agreed with Thorin, but the offer of sleep was too tempting to pass up. With the hope of a brief escape from his guilt and fear Bilbo allowed the soothing circles Thorin was tracing into his skin and the low humming coming from his chest to lull him into sleep.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Thorin had been wrong. Things did not look better in the morning. In fact, things were even worse for poor Bilbo. Where before he had been able to pretend things were normal when he wasn't in the middle of a fit of madness and delude himself that it had never happened, now . . . that was impossible. Even though Thorin had not told him that the others knew what was going on, Bilbo knew that they knew. It was there in the forced brightness of their smiles, their laughs. Even in the way that they had greeted him that morning.

It had taken Thorin some time to convince Bilbo that it was worth it to get up and get dressed. He didn't feel up to it. Up to going out and seeing people and . . . anything more than going back to sleep was too much for him to consider. He felt so tired and at the same time . . . felt nothing. It had only been when Thorin had threatened to dress him like a child that Bilbo had flared somewhat back to life. His rage at the indignity of his lover doing such a thing to him giving him the energy to rise and dress. But once he did, he felt more drained than he had before.

"Thorin," he had pleaded, his voice faint even to his own ears, "can't I just stay in here today? Please."

"What of food?" Thorin had replied. "I will not aid you in becoming more reclusive so that you can wallow in misery, Bilbo. If you want to eat you need to come to the table. Are you not hungry?" Bilbo meant to deny his hunger and protest his right to stay but his stomach chose that moment to give a loud rumble, even if Bilbo didn't feel the discomfort that came from hunger. He didn't feel anything outside of regret, shame and sorrow.

"I thought as much," Thorin had said with a gentle smirk. "You missed dinner last night. Come," he offered his hand to the hobbit waiting for Bilbo to accept it.

"I could survive missing more meals than that," Bilbo had replied in a toneless voice. "I've missed more than one in the past. In fact, even the days that we ate well on the quest I missed four most days."

"You will not miss another if I can help it," Thorin sighed. "Now, come along."

"I don't feel hungry," Bilbo confessed. "I don't really _feel_ anything." Thorin felt his blood freeze in his veins at the pronouncement. How could Bilbo feel nothing? He swallowed heavily and tried to keep his concern from his voice when next he spoke.

"In that case, come keep me company while I eat," Thorin had countered. "Without you the only company I have is Bofur, Balin and Dwalin—who laugh at my expense—Frodo—who still seems to be a bit intimidated by me—and Gandalf, who . . . well, you know how well Gandalf and I get along. Will you truly condemn me to the fate of their company alone?" He was pleased to see the ghost of a smile on Bilbo's face and the faintest spark of merriment in his hazel eyes.

"Very well, I will come sit at breakfast with you," Bilbo sighed. "Pushy dwarf."

"Eternally," Thorin agreed. "Thank you for agreeing to this, Bilbo." The hobbit gave no reply but accepted the proffered hand and allowed Thorin to pull him to his feet. With a long-suffering sigh, Bilbo allowed himself to be led out of his bedroom and into the excessively bright hall of his home and into the kitchen where more sound was emanating than should be allowed at any time let alone before breakfast.

"Good morning, all," Thorin called to alert them to their presence. At his words all conversation ceased and everyone turned to look at him and Bilbo—who had moved so that he was slightly behind the dwarf, almost as if the stares of his friends and companions were arrows and Thorin a shield.

"Bilbo!" Bofur called with even more than his usual cheer before standing and moving towards Thorin and the hobbit in question. It broke his heart to see how reserved and timid Bilbo had become overnight. This was worse than he had been at the start of the quest. The hobbit seemed to be afraid of them. Thorin was right. The madness was taking Bilbo away from them. There was hardly anything left of the intelligent, courageous and witty hobbit that had gone questing with them and managed to cow a King into submission on more than one occasion. The Bilbo before him was just a shell. One that would break if not handled carefully. Realizing this, he changed tactics. When he continued, his voice was soft, one to be used with a skittish animal, not a long-time friend.

"I take it you slept well?" Bofur said gently, his smile soft and only his eyes showing the pain he felt at seeing his friend like this. "Come! We have breakfast ready. We cooked all of your favorites."

"Yes!" Balin agreed, his voice falling nearly painfully on Bilbo's ears with the cheer that had been forced into it and causing the hobbit to flinch. "We even cooked mushrooms. Frodo was kind enough to show us how it should be done. Claimed that we were just going to ruin them."

"You were," Frodo replied with a laugh. "They were trying to cook them in oil, Uncle. OIL! And with naught but pepper for seasoning! Dwarves know _nothing_ of how to cook decent mushrooms. But don't worry. I set them straight before they could ruin them."

"That you did, lad," Dwalin said, his voice soft, gentle, with his repentance for his part in Bilbo's trips into insanity. He had vowed to himself that he would do nothing to provoke Bilbo that day. His heart would not allow it. If he was to be the cause of madness, he would be sure that he could find no fault in his actions.

"You have a smart lad, Bilbo," Dwalin praised, knowing that it had been his perceived lack of value of hobbits and their culture that had caused most of their arguments. "I never knew that there was a correct way to cook mushrooms before, but they _do_ smell delicious. Perhaps I will have to try them." Dwalin cursed himself as Bilbo's blank face took on a pained expression. He knew then that he had overdone it and hurt the hobbit in a different way. It seemed lately that he could do nothing right as far as his interactions with Bilbo Baggins were concerned.

Dwalin's overcompensation for his part in Bilbo's anger was the first thing to get through to the hobbit since Thorin had spoken to him in the bath. If _Dwalin_ was treating him delicately . . . it was only a sign of just how damaged he had become. If _Dwalin,_ the most dwarvish of the dwarves that he knew, was going to willingly try _mushrooms_ to prove to Bilbo that he valued hobbits . . . the thought brought tears to his eyes at how much he was affecting his friends and he tried to flee back to his room only to be stopped by Thorin's hand applying gentle pressure to his arm.

"You promised to sit with me, remember?" Thorin asked gently. "So let's sit." Bilbo didn't fight as he was led to the bench and seated upon it. He didn't have the energy and even if he had, Thorin would win if he tried to fight him if the dwarf truly wanted to. So Bilbo sat, staring blankly at the table until there was a plate placed in his line of sight. He vaguely registered that there were mushrooms, roasted tomatoes, bacon and eggs filling it but felt no pleasure at the sight.

"Are you going to taste them?" Thorin asked. "They did cook them just for you, âzyungâl. It would be a shame for them to go uneaten."

"I'm not hungry," Bilbo reminded him.

"Just taste them," Thorin prompted. "At least let them know if they did well. That is all that I ask." Bilbo sighed and picked up his fork before spearing a mushroom and looking at it expressionlessly before popping it into his mouth and chewing it. It nearly dissolved on his tongue and a small portion of his mind whispered that it was delicious.

"What do you think, Uncle?" Frodo asked, looking hopefully at Bilbo. "Did we do alright? I know that you always cook them, but I think that I followed your recipe." Bilbo offered him a wan smile.

"You did well," Bilbo offered. "They are quite delicious." To prove his point and in an attempt to erase the sadness from Frodo's eyes, Bilbo ate another. He ate slowly, methodically, with no real drive or need to do so but before he knew it, his plate was empty. He tried to ignore the happy smiles that the others sent his empty plate but he couldn't help but feel pleased that he had made them happy by doing something so small as eating. He only wished that he could find joy in it.

**ooOO88Oooo**

Bilbo's mood lasted through the morning. He would speak when spoken to, and move when he was directed to do so, but none of his actions were truly voluntary and any movement was accompanied by a world-weary sigh. Everyone was worried about him, but none more so than Gandalf. The wizard watched with a heavy heart as Bilbo went through the motions of life with no real motivation to do so. He couldn't help but feel that it was his fault. He _knew_ that this was due to the Ring, and knew that he should have separated it from Bilbo _years_ ago. Perhaps ever right after the quest. But he had let it remain.

Sometimes it was difficult for him to keep track of the passage of time. Even if things around him changed, the change in most cases was so slow that it was unnoticeable until it was too far gone. Bilbo's lack of aging had fooled him and it was only once he had realized that it was the hobbit's 111th birthday and Frodo's maturity that reminded him that it had been sixty years. Rather than speak to Frodo that day, he sat in the corner with his pipe and watched Bilbo closely. What he saw disturbed him deeply. His expression flickered between sorrow and anger almost as if he was undergoing a small mental war with himself. He had originally intended to leave it until after Bilbo's birthday, but he hadn't realized just how deeply rooted this problem was. He rapidly decided that he and Thorin would have to attempt it that night. He would just have to figure out how to get them alone with Bilbo. None of the others needed to see or hear what might happen.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It was lunch time before Bilbo truly showed life. They had finished the meal, Bilbo once again eating mechanically, and Thorin was preparing to leave for work. He eyed the hobbit warily before he sighed. Bilbo couldn't leave the house like this.

"Will you look after him while I'm at work?" Thorin asked Gandalf from across the table, knowing that the wizard was perhaps the most qualified for the task as he seemed to have at least some knowledge of what was going on.

"Thorin," Gandalf replied with a sad smile, "you need not ask. I have been looking after Bilbo for you for sixty years. I think I can manage him for an afternoon."

"And just who says that I need looking after?" Bilbo snapped, shooting to his feet and glaring angrily at the two of them. "I have been looking after myself for longer than I care to remember! I DO NOT need the two of you to talk about me as if I am a child! I can look after myself!"

"Bilbo," Thorin murmured, reaching for the hobbit and attempting to draw him into his arms as the madness stirred in his eyes once more. Rather than allow himself to be comforted, Bilbo slapped his hands away.

"NO!" the hobbit snarled. "You do not get to touch me, Thorin Oakenshield. The only reasons that I have ever needed to be looked after were your fault and neither time did you care enough about me to look after me yourself."

"Now Bilbo," Balin cut in, "that's not true and you know it. Thorin loves you. He has always taken good care of you."

"Really?!" Bilbo scoffed. "Was he taking good care of me when he ignored me at the beginning of the quest that he drug me from my nice warm home to go on? When he allowed me to come into the wild without a weapon and failed to even consider teaching me how to use it once I _did_ acquire one? When he didn't even notice that I had been lost in Goblin Town? What about when he sent me in alone to face down a dragon?"

"That last bit _was _what you were contracted for," Bofur added trying to sway Bilbo with logic. Even if it was a distorted version of events, Thorin's action did sound particularly negligent when strung together in that way.

"A contract he never needed to present me with if he wasn't so focused on reclaiming that damned mountain," Bilbo countered. "He loves that mountain more than he ever loved anything else in his life." Thorin's eyes went wide as he realized just what Bilbo was about to say. He prayed that he was wrong but he knew what was about to come and from the faces of the others, they did as well.

"Please," Thorin whispered. "Stop." Rather than stop, Bilbo laughed cruelly before he turned back to Thorin, madness and hatred in his eyes. The hatred was new and Thorin had to wonder why it was suddenly there. He wondered if Gandalf was correct in the fact that the Ring had a consciousness of its own and had realized that he posed a threat to its continued possession of Bilbo, but those thoughts were soon driven from his mind and replaced with a nearly blind rage as the thing-that-looked-like-Bilbo spoke once more.

"What?" he asked sarcastically. "Are you afraid of the truth, O Great King Under the Mountain? Do you not wish to be reminded that you traded my love and the lives of your nephews for riches and a mountain that you didn't even get to keep? Does it haunt you to know that their blood is on your hands as surely as if you had gutted them yourself? That it would have been more humane of you to snap their tiny little necks straight from the womb so that you would have spared your sister the agony of raising sons only to have them stripped from her arms and _murdered_ by the very brother that should have—"

Bilbo's words were cut off as Thorin slammed him into the wall, one hand on his shoulder and the other around his throat. There was shock on his face for a moment before it twisted into a grin of satisfaction. Even though his rage at the words, Thorin felt trepidation coil in his stomach. He had the distinct feeling that he had played right into the hands of the madness and had given it ammunition in the war for Bilbo's mind.

"So that's what it took, hm?" Bilbo purred his eyes half-lidded in what almost looked like lust and his hand coming up to caress the back of Thorin's hand that was around his throat. "All I had to do was bring up Fíli and Kíli's blood on your hands to bring back the murder that I still see in my nightmares."

"I have no intention of murdering you, Bilbo," Thorin replied. "But I will not allow you to speak such bitter lies to me. Not about them."

"Lies?" Bilbo scoffed. "That's not what you believed them to be the day before yesterday. I believe those were nearly the same words that you spoke to me. Or did you lie about your remorse over their deaths and the lack of love you showed them in life? You know, perhaps it _is_ a good thing they died. The sight of their proud, _kingly_ Uncle working in a forge for a _hobbit_ because he's too much of a _coward_ to return to his kingdom and claim what is his for fear of his own lack of self-control would have shamed them beyond endurance. They would have died from it. Perhaps it's good that they never lived to see you sink so low, Thorin. Perhaps it was kinder that you killed them so early in their lives." At the last words, Thorin flinched as if Bilbo had struck him before his eyes filled with tears and rage and he abruptly released the hobbit before turning and storming out the front door.

Silence filled the kitchen for a couple of moments at what Bilbo had _dared_ to say to Thorin, while the hobbit glared after him triumphantly. Then Bilbo blinked a couple of times and the madness in his eyes and the hardness of his expression faded. With a quite moan, his features took on a look of confusion. He looked at the shocked, horrified expressions of his friends and heir and felt shame flood his veins that they had been there to witness his latest foray into madness.

"Wha-what just happened?" Bilbo asked quietly in a small, lost voice. "Where is—OH GODS!" He sobbed as the memory of what had just said to Thorin returned. He sank to the floor, bowed under the severity of what he had just done. He would be lucky if Thorin ever decided to return after what he had just said. That had been _beyond_ below the belt. He was shocked at the cruelty that he had been capable of. _He's gone forever,_ he thought miserably. _And I do not blame him. Not after that. I cannot ask him to endure that._

_**It is fine, my love,**_ another voice whispered within him, one that he had never heard before and that felt cold and cruel but familiar and comfortable at the same time. _**We do not need the dwarf. He has hurt us before. We have all that we need right here, do we not?**_

Bilbo wanted to tell the voice that it was wrong, that he _did_ need Thorin, but suddenly the image of Thorin's angry eyes as he slammed Bilbo into the wall only moments before rose to his mind before being replaced by the memory of Thorin as he had looked as he attempted to end Bilbo's life. His eyes were nearly the same and for the first time, doubt began to creep into Bilbo's mind about whether Thorin truly could be trusted not to relapse.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new chapter. Sorry about this one . . . it's a bit dark. Seems like most of my stuff has taken a dark turn lately but there is light on the horizon :) I promise. Just bear with me.**

**As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this chapter or to add it to your alerts or favorites.**

**And a special thank you to those of you who reviewed.**

**Guest: **** It wasn't particularly late :) I'm sorry that it haunts you but I am glad that it keeps itself in your mind :) and your favorite? Really!? Thank you so much! And of course I would thank you! You took the time to write me a review the least I can do is thank you for it :) And that is a very amusing mental image. Thank you for it!**

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**That's all for now folks. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to know what you think (even if you hated it) so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined.**

**Stickdonkeys**


	22. Chapter 22

As Thorin slammed the door of Bilbo's home behind him he wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor against it and cry. Oh, how he wanted to. But he did not allow himself to do it. Not there. Not where all it would take for Bilbo to continue his tirade—_No_, he mentally corrected himself, _**NOT**__ Bilbo, the thing-that-looks-like-Bilbo. __**Bilbo**__ would __**never**__ have said that to me. __**He**__ told me himself that he knows how much I loved Fíli and Kíli. He wants me to make peace with their mother. He would __**never**__ have told me that I . . . that I __**murdered**__ them._

At that last thought tears came unbidden to his eyes and Thorin wiped them away angrily but they would not be stopped. He had restrained them for too long and now that his composure had weakened they intended to fall until they were done. Realizing this, he wiped them away once more and took off at a run for the clearing that he had taken Bilbo to on the day that Bilbo and Dwalin had come to blows. He barely made it before the wracking sobs claimed him.

There, alone in the forest, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror wept.

He wept for his nephews, his painfully young nephews, taken before their time in a violent battle that they should never have been involved in had he have been a better uncle and known that there are more important things in this life than gold and jewels and vengeance. He wept for the lives that they would never have a chance to lead: the love they would never find, the children they would never have, all the wonders and pains of life that he had robbed them of in his quest to reclaim a kingdom that they had no need to retake.

He wept for his sister, his poor baby sister, who had been forced to outlive her sons and see them placed beneath the stone. He wept that she would never again be greeted at the door by the strong arms of her golden-haired eldest and the warm smile of his counterpart, her dark-haired youngest. He wept that she had been denied her right to see them wed. To see the joy and pride in their faces as they looked at their mates and, perhaps, presented her with her grandchildren. He had denied her that pleasure. Because of him, she would never see her boys again. Even though she would never been able to see them again, Thorin _was_ grateful that she had been spared the sight of their broken bodies. He hadn't. He had seen them fall and took the memory of it as his just punishment for leading them to their deaths.

Surprisingly, he even wept for Bilbo. Even though it had been Bilbo's _body_ that had been used against him, it had not been Bilbo's _soul_ that had made the attack. It had been another consciousness possessing his dear, sweet mate. Bilbo was as much a victim of the madness as Thorin was. Thorin had witnessed the remorse that Bilbo felt—remorse that bordered on depression at times—at the actions that the madness—the Ring—committed in his body. He could not help but weep for Bilbo, caught in the middle of a struggle that he did not even fully understand just because he had picked up a bit of gold in a cave.

Thorin felt regret swallow him as he wondered if all the times that Bilbo had used the Ring during their quest had accelerated his descent into madness. Had the reclaiming of Erebor happened not only at the cost of Fíli and Kíli's lives but also at the cost of Bilbo's sanity? Even if _Bilbo_ hadn't meant it—and may never even have thought it since there _was_ another consciousness inside his body—he had been right when he had said that everything bad that had ever happened to him could be attributed to Thorin. Just like with Fíli and Kíli, had he not have wanted to retake the mountain, Bilbo would never have left the Shire. He would have remained safe in Bag End and would never have ever even found the damn Ring in the first place.

_Yes,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bilbo's whispered in his mind_, that's true. But if he'd remained here he never would have found __**you**__ either. _Thorin scoffed at the idea that he was worth what Bilbo was now going through and with a soft smile, a memory floated to the surface. A memory of when Bilbo had answered that very question.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_They had been in Lake Town, alone in their bed in the room that they had been given. Bilbo had been shaking in the throes of a fever from the cold that he had gotten while rescuing them from the dungeons of the Elf King and Thorin held Bilbo close as the hobbit simultaneously shivered and burned—his fever alarmingly high despite the potion that Óin had given him and his breathing far too shallow and too rapid._

"_Please," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's hair. "Please don't die. Not like this, not when we're so close to our goal. Please don't leave me."_

"_That . . . that would be __**quite**__ uncourteous of me . . . would-wouldn't it?" Bilbo panted, his voice nearly lost in his labored breathing. "To . . . to come all this way with you only to . . . only to die at the . . . at the very foot of the mountain and . . . and force you to return and bring __**another **__worthless hobbit across Middle Earth." He gave a weak laugh there at the end that turned into a brutal coughing fit that left his throat aching and had a moan rising from his lips. _

"_You are not worthless, Bilbo," Thorin promised trying to soothe the hobbit into going back to sleep. He hadn't meant to wake him and listening to Bilbo try to talk was painful. At end of each lungful of air Bilbo had to pause and take a couple of shallow breaths before he could continue. It would be better for them both if he would just allow sleep to take him. _

"_And it is not just the inconvenience your death would cause this quest that makes me implore you not to die," Thorin promised, worried that Bilbo might actually believe that he thought that despite everything that had already passed between them. "I . . . I would miss you, Bilbo Baggins. This is no secret to you but I feel that it needs said: I . . . I love you. Finding you was like finding a part of myself that I did not know was missing. I did not know that I was incomplete until you had already completed me. For you to die now, so soon after . . . I am not sure that I could survive that, Bilbo. I want you to remain by my side forever, not be stripped away from me by illness." He felt it when Bilbo tried to embrace him more tightly, but his limbs were too weak from the fever burning through his body and his grip was little more than the natural weight of his hands. _

"_It will take more than a . . . than a fever to take me from you, Thorin," Bilbo promised quietly, his voice fading even further as he began to drift out of lucidity once more, appeased by Thorin's declaration. "I am sturdier than I look . . . and nearly as stubborn as you dwarves. I'll survive this, you'll see."_

"_I sincerely hope that you are correct," Thorin said pressing a kiss to Bilbo's forehead and feeling worry rise in him more strongly than ever as the contact nearly burned him. He was beginning to lose hope that Bilbo would survive. He hadn't even begun to sweat yet. His fever was still climbing and already Thorin had felt forges that were less warm than the hobbit in his arms. Even if Bilbo __**did**__ survive it was possible that his mind would be damaged by the harms the fever wrought on his body._

"_I usually am," Bilbo replied cheekily, a small smile on his face as he rested against Thorin with his eyes closed._

"_I will never agree to that, my dear hobbit. Your ego needs no inflation," Thorin replied with the ghost of a laugh. Bilbo gave another small laugh that once more led to a fit of wracking coughs that Thorin wondered if would ever stop and left Bilbo gasping for air once they did pass. It had taken Bilbo sitting up to stop them, but they did pass._

"_I am sorry for all of this," Thorin sighed as he helped his hobbit lay down once more._

"_Whatever for?" Bilbo asked. "__**You**__ didn't get me sick. I'm the one that was . . . foolish enough to ride . . . down a cold river on barrels. And I'm the fool that keeps . . . keeps laughing at what you say despite . . . despite knowing what it will do to me."_

"_No," Thorin clarified. "For ever bringing you on this expedition in the first place. You should have been able to remain in your nice, warm home. Not been forced to follow us across Middle Earth and been threatened by all manner of creatures therein. It is almost ironic that of all the things that could have killed you a fever is coming the closest. I hate that I had any kind of a hand in it."_

"_Don't," Bilbo whispered cuddling closer to Thorin. "I don't regret that I followed you. Don't regret inviting me."_

"_How can you not!?" Thorin demanded incredulously. "How many times have you nearly died?"_

"_I could ask you the same," Bilbo replied, cracking open an eye and attempting to look at the blurry dwarf above him. "But even if . . . even if I die here or . . . or in the mountain . . . it was worth it."_

"_Was your thirst for adventure truly so great that your death will not upset you," Thorin asked in surprise. "You told me that you are only halfway through your lifespan. Would you really be content to die at this very moment? Do you have no regrets about coming with us?"_

"_I would not be content, no," Bilbo argued. "But I would have no regrets. I do not regret coming . . . coming with you, Thorin. If I hadn't . . . well, what good . . . what good is a long life without love? If I were to die right now . . . I would die content in the knowledge that . . . that I had been well loved. The time I have spent with you . . . it is worth an early death. I love you. Even though you are a stubborn and . . . and __**arrogant**__ dwarf at times. I can never regret coming since it . . . since it enabled me to find __**you**__."_

_Thorin was shocked for a moment. Bilbo had just as good as said that his love was worth dying for. He was humbled by the admission. Bilbo loved him enough to be willing to die for him. Few people were fortunate enough to find one that cared for them so deeply, even among his own people. Once more he prayed to the Maker that Bilbo would survive this. He could not bear to be responsible for the death of one that could love so purely. Bilbo __**had**__ to survive. _

_It was only a few hours later that Bilbo began to sweat as his fever broke. Thorin sat up with him all night, waking him periodically to have him drink a glass of water. Just before dawn, the sweating stopped. Bilbo's skin had returned to its normal temperature, slightly cooler than Thorin's own, and he slept peacefully. Thorin pressed his lips against Bilbo's cool forehead and thanked Mahal that Bilbo had survived and made a vow that he would do everything in his power to be worthy of Bilbo's devotion for the rest of their days. He knew what it was that he had found and had no intention of losing it._

**ooOO88OOoo**

He sighed as it occurred to him that he had broken that vow. Not even a month later he had proved himself decidedly unworthy of Bilbo's devotion by turning on him over a _stone_ and attempting to thrown him to his death. But even that had not been enough to cause Bilbo to hate him. Rather than curse his name and memory for all eternity, Bilbo had mourned him. For sixty years. For _sixty_ _years_ Bilbo had mourned him and taken no other lover. Bilbo was _still_ devoted to him after all that time. Despite all the pain that Thorin had put Bilbo through, the hobbit _still_ loved him.

Gandalf had told him that was why the Ring was so cruel towards him. The Ring had held Bilbo's heart for sixty years because Bilbo had no need for it any more. With Thorin dead, no one else had a claim to it and the Ring had met no resistance in claiming it. Bilbo was still capable of being _fond_ of others, but the soul-consuming love that he had for Thorin . . . he could give that to no others since he had hidden his heart away, safely ensconced it in the fortress of the Ring. When Thorin had returned, Bilbo had reclaimed his heart and freely returned it to Thorin. _That_ had been what had triggered the madness. Thorin's return had driven his mate to madness. Thorin had told Bilbo numerous times that the madness was not his fault and it had been the truth.

In fact, Bilbo truly had nothing to do with the madness. It was not a battle that he was truly involved in, he was the prize and the stakes. The combatants were actually Thorin and the Ring, poor Bilbo was merely caught in the middle of yet another war that he was dragged into by Thorin. All of his confusion and pain . . . it was Thorin's fault as surely as if he were the one that was attacking Bilbo once more. He knew that it would be easier for Bilbo—the bouts of madness fewer—if he would stay away until the time Gandalf decided to take the Ring from him but he could not bring himself to leave Bilbo to suffer through this alone. He _would not_ lose Bilbo to the Ring.

With a sigh, Thorin stood and wiped the tears from his cheeks and began the long walk to the forge. He wished that he knew the countryside well enough to avoid the market but that was not the case. Steeling his nerves for the inevitable crowds that would press in on him with questions, he entered town. He had been correct. Despite the fact that he knew that his eyes were still red from his tears—or perhaps _because_ of it—the hobbits in the market still came near him, though their questions that day were gentler than they had been in previous days, and their smiles warmer as they grew accustomed to his presence in their market.

He had feared that they would ask about Bilbo's whereabouts. He wasn't sure that he could answer that question politely, but he needn't have worried because no one did. They seemed to realize that it was something that Thorin did not wish to discuss and after a few polite questions about his own health they allowed him to continue on his way.

"Can't hold you up too much, Mr. Thorin," a she-hobbit with a wee babe in her arms said with a smile. "After all, I would hate to come between royalty and a goal, even if that goal is just to fix the pot I took to Tom this morning. Give my regards to Mr. Bilbo when you see him." He promised her that he would even if he had no idea how to do so as he had no idea who she was, and made his way towards the forge.

Once there he walked through the door without bothering to call out. Tom had his back to the door, working carefully on something on the anvil. Thorin watched him, shocked at the about of force the hobbit was capable of generating with each blow and waiting for him to pause in his work before speaking so as not to risk startling him into damaging his current project in his shock. When Tom set down the hammer and picked up his tongs to place the pan into the fire to reheat, Thorin spoke.

"I am sorry that I am late today, Master Tom," Thorin said quietly. "There was . . . there was something that came up urgently and delayed me. It will not happen again."

"I wondered if you were coming today or if something had happened in the market," Tom said with a laugh. "I wasn't sure that they would let you through after what you and Mr. Bilbo let slip yesterday. Meaning no offence, Mr. Bil . . ." Tom trailed off as he turned to face the door and saw that there was no Bilbo in sight. Only Thorin. As he took in the dwarf's red-rimmed eyes and sad expression he knew immediately what the "something urgent" had been. They had had a spat.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty," Tom said with a sad sigh, "but you look terrible. Are you sure that you feel up to working today. Wouldn't you rather go home and sort out whatever it is that happened so urgently?" Thorin gave a small mirthless laugh that the hobbit smith had figured out what had passed between him and his mate that morning—or near enough.

"No, Master Tom," Thorin sighed. "I would rather work for a bit and clear my head before I return home. It may save us both a few harsh words and undue heartache. And, please, I have no throne or crown. There is no need to address me so formally. I would appreciate it if you would use my name. 'Thorin' will suffice or 'Mister Thorin' if you must, but just know that even when I _did_ have a crown my own people tended to just refer to me by my name."

"I can do that," Tom replied with a warm smile. "If that is what you wish, 'Thorin' you shall be. If you will drop the 'Master,' that is. 'Tom' will do just fine. I'm only a simple hobbit blacksmith after all. Titles like that are for finer folks that me." Thorin's smile was warmer this time. If this was how hobbits behaved he knew that he could truly be happy here. They truly were a kind folk and he finally understood why Gandalf was so fond of them.

"I can do that as well," Thorin agreed. "But allow me to tell you this, Tom. I have met many fine folks that are less deserving of their titles, and the respect that comes from them, than you. I have met _kings_ that are less noble than "a simple hobbit blacksmith.""

"Thank you," Tom said blushing a fiery crimson at the compliment. "And, if I may be so bold as to say so, you are the most polite dwarf that I have ever met."

"Am I the only dwarf you have ever met?" Thorin asked with a laugh.

Tom shrugged in response. "Perhaps you are," Tom replied cryptically. "But that would make you the politest, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Thorin agreed. For nothing more than a 'simple hobbit blacksmith' Tom had a sharp mind. Thorin was beginning to wonder if that was also not a trait that was singular to Bilbo but rather a trait inherent to his race. At the thought of Bilbo a pang of remorse washed through him followed by a burst of fury at what his mate was going through.

"Would you like to finish that pan or would you prefer I take over?" Thorin asked suddenly feeling the urge to hit something and thinking that it would be best to channel his rage into something productive. Seeming to sense the dwarf's mood once more, Tom gestured at the forge.

"I will let you take over, Thorin," Tom said. "I'll be back at dusk to help you close up." The dwarf nodded and turned to the forge, stripping off his outer garments as he walked and glaring at the pot in the bed of coals with fury burning in his blue eyes and a single-minded determination on his face that made Tom instantly glad that he was _not_ Bilbo Baggins. He had only known Thorin for a few short days but even in that time he had come to realize that he was not a dwarf to be trifled with. He wasn't sure what had passed between Bilbo and the dwarf but he _was_ sure of one thing; Bilbo had better hope that Thorin vented some of his anger on the anvil or Tom was unsure of Bilbo's odds of surviving the night.

"I'll just leave you to it, shall I?" Tom said before beating a hasty retreat from the livid dwarf and hoping that his forge would be in one piece when he returned that night.

Thorin sighed as Tom fled. He had heard the fear in the hobbit's voice and felt remorse for having been the cause of it. But then thoughts of Bilbo floated through his mind once more and he turned to the pot that was now on the anvil and began the process of repairing the break in the side of it. If his hammer fell with a bit too much ferocity . . . well, it would not show in the finished work and none ever needed to know. As he worked, he allowed all that had happened that day to flow through his mind and came to a decision: no matter what Gandalf had originally intended, they _would_ separate Bilbo from the Ring that night, even if he had to beat the wizard bloody to convince him of the necessity of the action.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well . . . it's a new chapter :) I tried to give you all a little fluff to balance out the angst. I hope you enjoyed it!**

**As always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Guest:**** I'm glad that I could make your day a little brighter :) And I'm glad that you are loving the dark turn :) and I am glad that you are so excited about this. That is one of the highest praises you can give me! Thank you so much! I hope that you continue to be excited :)**

**Maria:**** Aloud, really?! I'm glad that I could provide entertainment at your picnic and hope that you all continue to be into it. Thank you so much for the compliment!**

**Becca: ****I'm sorry that it has taken such a sad turn :( I tried to give you a bit of insight into why he stays in this chapter, maybe it will help. And his age does catch up to him after the Ring is gone but it is not near as quick as most people think. There were actually nearly twenty years between Bilbo's birthday and when they met back up in Rivendell so . . . it will catch up with him just not instantly. :) And Thank you so much! I am glad that you are still with me even if you don't see how this can end well :)**

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (****especially**** if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	23. Chapter 23

After Thorin left and Bilbo began crying everyone remained where they were in stunned silence. None of them could process what they had just seen. True, they had seen Bilbo in rages before-both madness induced and irritation induced-and he did tend to be more verbal in his attacks. Bilbo and Thorin had fought in front of the company more than once and every one of them had at one time or another been on the receiving end of one of Bilbo tirades but this . . . it had been different and shocking.

The dwarves, while they still loved Bilbo like a brother, were disgusted by what he had had the gall to say to Thorin. Not just because Thorin was a King-though that _did_ factor into it since, just like with Bilbo, it would always be his title to them even if he never reclaimed it-but because Bilbo meant so much to Thorin. They knew just how deeply Bilbo's words about Fíli and Kíli would have cut their king and friend . . . and pulling Dís' anguish at losing her sons into it with his comment about snapping their little necks straight from the womb . . . after that, it was only their own knowledge of and love for Bilbo, along with Gandalf and Thorin's assurances that Bilbo was not himself that kept them from seeking retribution for the cruelty. That, and the fact that they knew that Thorin would likely seek retribution of his own if they harmed his mate . . . even after _that_. Thorin did not wish to see Bilbo punished or he would have done it himself rather than extracting himself from the situation.

But while they did not attack him, they also could not bring themselves to offer him comfort. Not after that. Especially since, if he could turn on Thorin like that, they wondered what chance any of them had of calming him if he did fly into a rage again. It was better for them all to keep their distance from the old hobbit.

Even Gandalf was feeling shocked by what he had just witnessed. He had seen many thing in his long life but even he had been taken by surprise by the sheer _cruelty_ of what had been said. While it was true that Thorin had told him what had been said in the bedroom in one of the previous spells of possession, he had not anticipated the cold, calculation cruelty. He had expected ranting, wild gestures, yelling but not this. What had left Bilbo's mouth had felt more to Gandalf like manipulation than a simple desire to hurt Thorin. That's not to say that it hadn't.

The Ring knew Bilbo's mind well and had used its knowledge to say the very words that would hurt Thorin the most deeply by targeting the one thing that had ever truly mattered to the dwarf-even if Thorin, himself, had forgotten it for a time: his family. While Gandalf also knew why Thorin had reacted the way he had and was actually thankful for the restraint that the dwarf had shown-restraint Gandalf hadn't know him capable of-he couldn't help but feel that the Ring had gotten exactly what it had wanted from Thorin. It had _wanted_ to provoke him to violence and he had played right into its hands.

If Gandalf hadn't already been sure that Bilbo and the Ring needed to be separated, this alone would have steeled his resolve. Now that the Ring was attempting to alienate Bilbo from the people who loved him and get the hobbit to itself there was no time to lose if they wanted to save Bilbo. It was also this knowledge that kept Gandalf in his seat. He wanted nothing more than to go to the distraught hobbit and offer him comfort, but if the Ring was reacting so poorly to the presence of Bilbo's mate he feared how it would respond to the proximity of an Istari. So, though it broke his heart to do so, he sat back and watched as Bilbo sobbed.

Frodo, however, was up and around the table and kneeling beside his uncle the moment the shock wore off. Never had he seen Bilbo so much as cry, let alone weep as he was now. The poor old hobbit was curled in on himself sobbing uncontrollably and failed to acknowledge that Frodo had even spoken when he called to him. With hands that shook slightly both from fear and nervousness, Frodo reached forward and began trying his best to sooth his uncle but unsure what to do. He _knew _that Bilbo had to be injured. Thorin had been quite rough with him, after all. True, harsh words had been said but it wasn'tas if Bilbo had _meant_ them. It seemed unfair to Frodo that Bilbo had to bear both the physical pain from Thorin's ire and the emotional pain of having hurt his lover in the first place. Even so, he understood _why_ Thorin had reacted the way he had.

As his hands skimmed along Bilbo's upper back the old hobbit winced and curled even farther in on himself. His shoulders were tender from where Thorin had slammed him into the wall and Bilbo knew that there would be bruises there from the dwarf's actions. But he also knew that it was the least he deserved after what he had dared to say to his mate. He halfway wished that Thorin _had_ killed him. At least then they would both be free of his deteriorating sanity. When he felt Frodo gently touch the tender area again he swatted at the lad's hands. Not because it hurt, though it did, but because he wanted to be left alone in his misery.

"Uncle," Frodo said softly. "Let me help."

"Leave me be. I'm fine," Bilbo muttered refusing to look at Frodo. Even if the shade of blue was different, Bilbo could not bear to look into blue eyes at the moment. Not with the memory of the pain Thorin's had contained because of his words so fresh in his mind. He had even thought that he saw tears just before Thorin had stormed off. No. Even Frodo's lighter shade of blue was too much.

"People who are 'fine' don't flinch when touched, Uncle," Frodo said firmly. He hated to speak to Bilbo in such a way but it seemed to be the only thing that Bilbo responded to at the moment. His uncle said nothing in response and taking his silence as acceptance, Frodo reached out once more only to have his hands swatted away a second time. Frodo sighed and steeled himself for what he had to do next. He was going to attempt to cow his uncle. He only hoped that he was up to the task.

"Uncle, you're being ridiculous!" Frodo exclaimed."Just let me help you, you foolish old hobbit!" Frodo's plan to goad his uncle into speaking backfired and Bilbo seemed to shrink in on himself even farther. The younger hobbit felt remorse wash through him at his mistake.

"Uncle?" he whispered in a soft, repentant voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You're not foolish. I'm sorry."

"No," Bilbo whispered. "You were right. I am foolish. And you can't help me with this, lad. No one can." Even before the final word was out of his mouth, Bilbo was scrambling to his feet and fleeing down the hall to his room. Frodo winced as he heard the door slam.

Silence once more fell over the room at Bilbo's departure. None of them knew what to say. Instead, they sat there, all unable to make eye contact with anyone else who had just witnessed the scene. They were ashamed of themselves. Every one of them felt grateful that Bilbo had decided to ensconce himself in his room and that they were not going to have to witness another meltdown as their dear friend slipped further away from himself. They were ashamed of their gratitude, especially in light of just how quickly things had gone downhill. This might be some of their last time to spend with _Bilbo_ and they were glad to not have it. They were filled with misery and self-loathing at the truth of the matter.

**ooOO88OOoo**

Their self-loathing and misery did not even begin to compare to the levels of both that Bilbo as experiencing as he curled up on his bed, burying his nose in the pillow Thorin had been using, knowing that this might be his only connection to the dwarf after what he had said. He still wasn't sure what had posessed him to say such things to Thorin. He _knew_ that Thorin had loved his nephews. _Why_ had he said that Thorin had valued the mountain over the boys when time and time again the dwarf had told him that he was mostly doing it for the boys and his sister. The gold _was_ a draw but it had not been the major drive . . . only a perk. Until Thorin had seen it that was. Then . . . well could Bilbo truly fault him-someone who had gone without for so long-getting a bit obsessive?

He had known, even before he had been acquainted with them, that dwarves loved the beauties of the earth. It made sense to him that they, having been created from the earth, would love things that shared a kinship with them. He also knew that Thorin had been born to that extravagance and had it taken from him brutally along with his home and his mother. Thorin had never told him personally. The dwarf never spoke of the fall of Erebor, not even with him, but Balin, Fíli and Kíli had filled him in one day when he asked why Thorin was so determined to complete the quest after Thorin had snapped at him in Mirkwood for a simple question despite their relationship only for Thorin to look at him with a condescending sneer and walk away. Bilbo had been hurt and angry and had turned to his friends for comfort.

**ooOO88OOoo**

_"I understand that he is a King," Bilbo had ranted, fighting back tears at Thorin's complete disrgard of his questions, "but what gives him the right to treat people that way? To treat __**me**__ that way. I . . . I only asked a simple question."_

_"Laddie," Balin had said with a sigh. "There are many things about Thorin that you need to know if the two of you have any chance at all of making this work. The odds are against you, Bilbo. You and Thorin . . . there are many differences between you. I know that you know about the age difference and the differences in temperaments but . . . Thorin . . . he's had too much loss and pain in his life, lad."_

_"So have you all!" Bilbo snapped glaring at his lover's back darkly. "None of the rest of you are quite so bitter and sour and-and . . . distrustful! He seems to think that __**everyone**__ is out to wrong him. He won't accept help when it is offered and he . . . it seems like he even distrusts me. Even with all that we have shared and all that we've been through together. I thought that he loves me. Why would he distrust me? I. . . I don't understand it, Balin."_

_"It's time that you, me and the lads had a conversation, Bilbo," Balin sighed motioning Fíli and Kíli over with a wave. "Thorin will never tell you any of this himself and there are parts of it that __**I**__ don't even know. There are parts that only he, Dís and the boys know but it is time that you did as well." Once the boys arrived and Balin told them what he wanted of them, Fíli paled and shot a worried look at his uncle's back._

_"Balin's right," Fíli said in a hushed voice his eyes still darting about warily while Kíli's had fixed unmoving on Thorin, acting in a lookout capacity as he did when they pranked together and prepared to stop his brother at the first sign of their uncle coming their way. It wasn't that they were afraid __**of**__ Thorin, but rather afraid __**for**__ him. What they were about to tell Bilbo . . . they were some of Thorin's darkest memories and neither boy had the desire to pain their uncle, which hearing even a hint of what was coming would do. There had always been words that were off-limits around their uncle and they were about to use them all. _

_"You do need to know if you are ever going to understand Uncle. But not here. We're too close and he might overhear us. Come with us," Fíli said, moving them even farther away from the group before sitting down once more, Kíli sitting beside him with his eyes still on Thorin. _

_"Now," Fíli asked simply. "What has Uncle told you about his past?"_

_"Not much," Bilbo replied. "I know that he was born in Erebor and that he remembers the dragon coming and that he settled your people in Ered Luin. That is about it."_

_"What do you know of our family?" Kíli asked quietly. "His generation especially. How many siblings does he have?"_

_"I know that your mother is his sister," Bilbo replied. "His younger sister. That's all that I know about so . . . . one?"_

_"He hasn't told you anything, has he?" Fíli asked, his blue eyes filled with sadness. At Bilbo's frustrated huff, the blonde dwarf gave a small, humorless laugh. "Don't worry. He didn't tell us anything either. What we know, we know from our mother." _

_"Balin is the best to tell you of the fall of Erebor," Fíli continued. "He was there and might have some memory of it. I do know that he and Uncle were not in the mountain when it fell and that they watched the distruction helplessly from afar. Uncle had to __**watch**__ as Smaug ravaged he mountain. He only discovered later that he had lost more than his home that day. His mother . . . she was killed in the attack." Fíli looked away for a moment before he glanced back up and continued. _

_"I know that you have learned a bit about us since we've been traveling together," Fíli said with a sigh. "You know that Kíli is not considered an adult yet and he is seventy-seven. Uncle . . . he was only twenty-three when the mountain fell. Far too young to be without his mother, especially with two younger siblings and a father that had to contend with his homeless people and not his traumatized children."_

_"Two?" Bilbo asked in shock. "Thorin has another sibling?"_

_"Had," Kíli corrected. "Uncle __**had**__ a brother."_

_"Oh dear!" Bilbo breathed, shocked that Thorin had never told him of a brother. "What happened to him?"_

_"He was killed," Balin said. "I was there. He was killed in the Battle of Azanulbizar." Seeing Bilbo's look of confusion, Balin sighed before he began explaining what he believed to be Thror and Thráin's greatest failing. "After the fall of Erebor, we were homeless. Thorin's father and grandfather decided that the best way to find us a home was to attempt to retake the ancient dwarf kingdom of Khazad-dûm. You probably know it as Moria if you know it at all."_

_"That's the same battle where Thorin earned his name, wasn't it?" Bilbo asked in shock. Thorin had lost his brother at the same battle that earned him fame. He wondered how Thorin felt about being best known for the day he had lost his younger brother. _

_"Aye, laddie," Balin agreed with a sad nod. "The same. That day we lost both Thror and Frerin. Thorin . . . he was only fifty-three."_

_"But if Kíli is still a child at seventy-seven," Bilbo began only to be cut off by Balin._

_"Yes," Balin agreed. "Most of us were still children at the battle. I was only forty-one and Frerin . . . he was forty-eight. Younger even than you are now. That day, Thorin blamed himself for both his grandfather and his brother's death."_

_"He still does," Fíli added sadly. "When he thinks of it at all, he blames himself. Mother told me as much. She knows him better than anyone else and he . . . she's the only one that he lets in at all. Until you, that is. I know that he still seems closed off from you but trust me when I tell you that I have never seen him behave towards anyone else the way he does you. He does trust you, Bilbo. It's just that . . . trust is a hard thing for Uncle to give out. Too many people have either left or betrayed him in his life and . . ." Fíli trailed off with a sigh. _

_"He's even a bit distant with us," Kíli added looking away from Thorin for the first time, a gentle smile on his face and love in his eyes. "More so since the quest started. We know that he's just afraid to lose us as well and that he __**does**__ care for us. That's part of the reason for the quest. Mother told us. Uncle wants to retake the mountain so that Fíli and I never have to want for anything again. He wants us to have the security that has been denied to him for so long. He can tell the others whatever he wants: that it is for retaking what is ours, that it is for the gold . . . we know the truth. He is doing this for us. For me and Fíli."_

**ooOO88OOoo**

Bilbo fell abruptly from the memory with a pained cry as the severity of what he had done struck him once more. Not only had he accused Thorin of murdering his nephews, but he had accused him of doing it on a quest that had been for their benefit all the time. He knew the guilt of that decision had to be eating Thorin alive. The dwarf had told him as much himself. Bilbo knew that Thorin had to hate himself. IN the quest to insure their future he had taken it. And Bilbo had thrown it back at him.

_**What does it matter?**_ The same little voice from earlier asked. _**You said nothing but the truth. What does it matter if the truth is painful or he does not want to hear it? He **__**did**__** lead them to their deaths. What do his intentions matter? He has never wanted to hear the truth from you. Do you not recall what happened inside the mountain when you tried to convince him to forgo battle-an action that would have saved Fíli and Kíli's lives? Do you not recall the madness in his eyes and the pain of his fingers digging into your flesh and leaving their black imprint there? The dwarf cares not for the truth, my love. Every time you have spoken a truth that he did not wish to hear he has reacted in anger, has he not? Why do you continue to mourn the pain you cause him when he has caused you such pain?**_

At first, the other voice's words seemed so untrue. Thorin had listened to his advice in the past, even if it was a truth that he did not believe. But as the voice continued, Bilbo realized that it was right. Thorin _was_ opinionated and proud and did not take suggestions or truths that were counter to his own philosophies well. Thorin _had_ been responsible for his nephew's deaths. If only he would have listened to Bilbo and traded with the elves and men there would have been no need for a battle and Fíli and Kíli would have survived. He ignored the part of his mind that whispered that such an action would have taken care of the men and elves but not the goblins and wargs in favor of moving on to the next point. Thorin _did_ always react with violence when he was displeased. He was dangerous to be around. What if the next time he _did_ decide to kill Bilbo for speaking the truth. For the first time since Thorin had stormed out of the house Bilbo questioned if he truly wanted the dwarf to return. Thorin could not be trusted.

Bilbo missed the thought that was almost a smirk as the Ring felt Bilbo's doubts begin to stir. Soon, soon it would have complete control of this hobbit. There were deep pains and fears here that it could exploit to bend the hobbit to its will and use the body of Bilbo Baggins to return itself to its Master. The dwarf _had_ posed a problem but no more. Bilbo's heart, mind and body now belonged to the Ring and it reveled in the control.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Well. . . that was . . . yeah :( Does it help if I say that I am sorry?**

**And as some of you may know, ****this time I have a QUESTION for you: For the next two weeks I am going to be writing like a madwoman to try to get as much done on these stories as I can before school starts up the first week of June. After it does updates will become much more sporadic (it's an accelerated program that compresses 2 years of study into 9 months. What would be a normal semester is now crammed into 8 weeks and well . . . that's a lot to do and very little time to do it) Here's where the question comes in. Do you want me to post as I get it done and get a mass amount of uploads in the next two weeks and then potentially silence for a while or would you rather that I hold them and give out a chapter (or two) a week? I think I prefer the spread out method but will do it whichever way is the most popular on each of my stories. I do want happy readers after all ;D. So vote for your choice in the reviews!**

**That said, as always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.**

**And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Guest: ****I will take that as the highest praise! While I am sorry to be spoiling other fandoms for you, I am glad that I have written something that sticks with you so well. I can also tell you that this is probably my favorite of my fanfics :) It is my little fanfic baby. Hopefully there won't be too much to make your mom think you are TOO addicted to the internet :)**

**Guest:**** Sorry about the lockdown, I hope it wasn't too serious :/ And I am glad that this was able to help you stay calm. And I would agree with you. Bilbo did give in too quickly (we're just now seeing the consequences of that) but to his credit he had been dreaming of that happening for sixty years. **

**Becca: ****I thought that would make you feel better :) And right? Thorin is a stubborn dwarf after all. He will win, or die trying :) I hope for Bilbo's well-being as well :)**

**RoseZemlya's****: That's all good. I'm too lazy to hunt you down to PM reply (and I actually prefer this anyway) And thank you :) I know what you mean. I've done it too :( I'm sorry that you had to go through that :( And yep :) I never forget about requests. Sometimes they get buried for a while but they (like dropped plot threads) always resurface. And I hope so too . . . I still think that he and Thorin would be a good pranking team :) And I don't know how to adequately express just how happy your kind words made me so I will just have to say Thank you so very much! (see, lots of exclamation points to try to convey my absolute joy) **

**Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (****especially**** if there was something that you hated)**

**Stickdonkeys**


	24. Chapter 24

By the time that Tom returned to the forge that night, Thorin was a good deal calmer than he had been when the hobbit had left. Additionally, the forge—and the anvil—was still in one piece. Tom had been a bit worried that they would not be. In fact, not only was everything in one piece but it seemed that anger made the dwarf even more productive than he had previously been, impossible as it seemed. Just as Thorin had earlier, Tom waited until Thorin dunked the pot he had been repairing into the barrel before he spoke.

"I see you've been productive today, Thorin," Tom said with a laugh, walking into the forge and picking up one of the pieces from the pile of finished goods and holding it up with a smile. "I was wondering how you would do today. Or if—" Tom cut himself off as he realized that what he had about to say may have been seen as rude. They had only known one another a few days and he was not sure that they were close enough for him to say what he had been intending to.

"You were worried that in my anger I would do more damage than good," Thorin said with a small laugh as he pulled the pot back out and began to buff the mend to check for flaws. Tom's blush caused his smile to falter. It used to be that easy to make Bilbo blush and more difficult to drive him to anger. He missed those times.

"I-I was," Tom agreed sheepishly unsure how to take this side of Thorin. Though the dwarf had always been good tempered with him, but he wasn't sure how to take this levity after the anger that had been radiating from Thorin only hours before. At his admittance, Thorin gave a small laugh through his nose.

"Tom, I have spent most of my life angry at something," Thorin admitted. "If anger affected my work I would have long ago starved."

"But you were a king!" Tom protested. "Surely you would not have starved."

"I was the king of an exiled people with no wealth and only a small settlement to call home," Thorin replied bitterly. "I worked just as any other. I would have starved like any other. With the choice of work or starve I learned to funnel my anger into something productive: smithing."

"Perhaps I should anger you more often," Tom said with a bemused shake of his head as he looked at everything that Thorin had accomplished. "You . . . normally you are . . . this is . . ." Thorin smiled at the flustered hobbit.

"I will see what I can do about coming to work in an irritated state more often, Tom," Thorin joked tightly. "It is good for business, after all."

"But not for you, or Mr. Bilbo," Tom argued. "And you are more than productive on a normal day. Speaking of a normal day, it's time for you to head home. I can close up and I think that you have vented enough that Mr. Bilbo _might_ survive the continuation of the argument."

"I think I'd rather stay and help you close up," Thorin replied with a sigh. He knew that he couldn't stay away forever, but the idea of going home and facing Bilbo after what Bilbo had said and Thorin had done . . . it was not one that appealed to him.

"I've take care of this," Tom replied with a knowing smile. "I let you vent the worst of your anger now go home and make peace. I have a wife. I know just how much work making peace can be, both emotionally and physically. Go home, Thorin." With a sigh, Thorin gathered up his things and replaced his layers and made his way to the door of the forge.

"Oh, and Thorin," Tom called waiting until the dwarf turned before he smiled and gestured at the pile of things that had been completed. "Stay home tomorrow. I don't know why you and Mr. Bilbo were separated for as long as you were or how long you two have been reunited and I am not trying to press my nose in where it is not wanted but . . . stay with him tomorrow. Take a day just for the two of you. I don't even intend to open the forge tomorrow. We'll both take a bit of a holiday. It's been too long since me and the wife took the kids on an picnic." Again, Thorin nodded, seeing no way that he could tell Tom that Bilbo might not want to spend the day with him tomorrow or that he might not want to spend it with Bilbo after what he had planned that night.

"You surprise me," Thorin said suddenly, eyeing the hobbit before him with a speculative gaze.

"How so?" Tom asked, wondering how they had gotten there. Surely Thorin had been given vacation before.

"I am surprised by how supportive you are of my relationship with Bilbo," Thorin clarified. "When we first began courting, Bilbo . . . he . . . he was . . . _reluctant_ to be with me even though he desired me because he had been raised to believe two males together was wrong. I was under the impression that it was a belief shared by all hobbits. He was very anxious about the consequences of returning home after beginning a relationship with me. Seemed to believe that he would be ostracized. Nothing of the sort has occurred."

"While it is true," Thorin added with a laugh, "that we did traumatize folk the first night after we left here—"

"I heard about that," Tom said with a laugh of his own. "Made a right bit of noise you two did!"

"Our noise aside, other than their shock there has been no real reaction," Thorin said. "If anything, the hobbits in the market have only been _more_ interested in us. And you . . . I am surprised. That's all."

"We're not near as uptight as we were when Mr. Bilbo was young," Tom replied. "True, it is still a taboo for two hobbits of the same sex to . . . you know . . . but . . . no offence meant of course, but Mr. Bilbo is so odd that nothing he can do would shock us too badly. And you . . . the same rules don't apply to strange dwarf-kings that spirit away hobbits in the night as apply to simple hobbits. And for Bilbo Baggins to be _with_ said dwarf-king . . . well, the two of you are more interesting than repulsive, if that makes any sense."

"It does," Thorin said with a nod. It hurt him to know that Bilbo was seen as so odd by his own people that their rules no longer applied to him but he was glad that it made their lives easier. "Thank you for the explanation, Tom. I will see you the day after tomorrow."

"Good night, Thorin," Tom replied. "And good luck."

"Good night, Tom," Thorin said before turning and walking into the darkness to return to Bag End and his troubled mate. He knew that he needed all the luck that he could get to do what he needed to that night. Not only did he have to convince a meddling wizard to meddle sooner than he intended—and later than he should have—but he also had to actually remove the Ring from Bilbo. He held no illusion that either task would be a simple one.

The walk was not a long one, much to Thorin's displeasure, and he soon arrived at the door to Bilbo's home. He heaved a deep sigh and had just prepared to open the door when a voice from the direction of the garden bench startled him.

"I knew that you would return to him," Gandalf said pausing to blow a smoke ring before he continued. "The others didn't believe that you would. They thought that you would just disappear into the night. They said they would not have blamed you for doing so."

"How much did you win this time?" Thorin asked with a wry smile, remembering just how much of his kin's gold Gandalf had made off with betting on Bilbo choosing to accompany them all those years ago—and many other bets on the hobbit many times beside. It got to the point where no one would take a bet against Gandalf if Bilbo was involved in any way.

"My dear dwarf," Gandalf replied with a snort, "Even your kin have _some_ scruples. There was no wager on this. Merely conversation." Thorin had to admit that he was surprised that they had a limit to what they would bet on. To his knowledge they had bet on every aspect of his relationship with Bilbo (and many other inappropriate things besides—including just how many of them Smaug would incinerate, though how the incinerated members intended to claim the reward was beyond him) he could not see why betting on how long it would take them to self-destruct would be different.

Thorin sighed as he tried to decide how he wanted to broach the topic of the Ring with the wizard without driving either of them into a rage. It turned out to be unnecessary as Gandalf brought it up himself.

"Thorin," Gandalf sighed, "I know that I originally said that we should wait until his birthday to separate him from the Ring and use Frodo's inheritance as an excuse but I fear now that if we wait that long it will be too late. If it is not already. You . . . the way you reacted today played right into the plans of the Ring. I can feel it. By losing your temper . . . we may have lost him."

"Don't you _dare_ blame this on me, wizard," Thorin growled. "Can you honestly tell me that _you_ would have reacted differently had he said the same to you?! No. You cannot. I reacted as anyone would have to such a claim. And I did _not_ lose my temper. It was still very much in my control—"

"Which is why you slammed him against the wall," Gandalf replied sarcastically sketching Thorin a mock bow with his lip curled in disdain. "I applaud your self-control, Master Dwarf." Thorin said nothing but merely glared at the wizard. He may have to admit that Gandalf had a point but he did not have to admit it aloud.

"There is no fault in losing your temper, Thorin," Gandalf said with a sigh, his sneer disappearing and being replaced by a sad expression. "Not with what was said to you. Everyone knows that you cared for the boys. No one—"

"Leave them out of this, wizard," Thorin snapped. "And I do not need your blessing for having assaulted my mate. It was not acceptable behavior regardless of what he said to me. I swore to never again touch him in anger and . . ." Thorin seemed to deflate for a moment before his face hardened once more and he composed himself before regarding Gandalf with cold eyes.

"Now, what did you intend to tell me of your plans for Bilbo," Thorin demanded, his tone business-like and nearly cold but with a hint of dark promise creeping in underneath it as he continued. "I will tell you that I do not intend to leave that Ring with him even one more night. The bouts where it is not Bilbo in his body are becoming more frequent and longer lasting. I will not allow this to continue. And you can either aid me or not as you will but you will not stop me in this. I _will_ do this tonight, with or without you. And know that if you _do_ attempt to stop me, I will not hesitate to remove any obstacle in my path, even if it _is_ an old man. I do not strike outside of battle without provocation however there has been provocation in this case. This entire mess is your fault after all. _You _were the one that has left that _thing_ with Bilbo for sixty years. If we lose him . . . know that I _will_ hold you personally responsible for his loss." Gandalf nearly smiled at the change in the dwarf that had sat at the kitchen of the home they were currently in front of and said that he would not be responsible for Bilbo, but this was not a matter for smiles.

"Understood," Gandalf replied instead, just as he had all those years ago. "I intended to tell you the same. Bilbo _must_ be separated from the Ring. To do this successfully, we will have to convince him to give it up willingly."

"Couldn't we just take it?" Thorin asked. He had to admit that had been his plan. Bilbo needed to be parted from it. He knew from what Gandalf had said that Bilbo _giving_ them the Ring was not going to happen easily if it would at all. He had already assaulted his mate once that day and this time would be for his own good, or so he told himself. Somehow taking something from Bilbo by force felt wrong to him, even if it was for Bilbo's own benefit.

"You could," Gandalf agreed, "if you wanted to destroy his mind. He _must_ give it up willingly if he is ever to be free of it."

"What if we cannot convince him?" Thorin asked his hope for this situation to end well fading with every passing moment. He only felt his trepidation increase when Gandalf sighed.

"Has Bilbo even spoken to you of Gollum?" Gandalf asked sadly. He watched as the sorrow in Thorin's eyes morphed into confusion at the mention of Gollum.

"The creature in the cave he won the Ring from? What does he have to do with this?" Thorin demanded. _He has everything to do with this,_ Gandalf thought sadly. _He is Bilbo's future if we fail._ But rather than say any of this and depress the dwarf further, Gandalf stuck to the facts of the matter rather than dire predictions of the future: a future that, with luck, would never come to pass.

"Thorin," Gandalf said slowly, loath to out Bilbo's deception to his lover, "Bilbo did not _win_ the Ring. He stole it. Or _found_ it I should say. Bilbo did not set out to steal it. The Ring abandoned Gollum, Bilbo found it and slipped it into his pocket. Even once Gollum said that he had lost it Bilbo did not return it to him. Bilbo willfully took the property of another and kept it as his own."

"How do you know this?" Thorin demanded wondering why Gandalf would have a different version of events than he had. Had the wizard gotten them from the creature rather than Bilbo? Bilbo was not a liar. "That is not the story that Bilbo told the company or me. He told me that it was part of the wager in the riddle game."

"He lied," Gandalf said flatly. "That is part of the lure of the Ring. It corrupts even the most honest and good individuals over time. And its corruption of Bilbo began the moment he touched it. The Ring may also have even exacerbated your own brief stint into madness."

"When did you know that he lied?" Thorin demanded. He choose to ignore the last part of Gandalf's speech. Nothing could absolve him of his actions. Not even an evil Ring. He had to admit that it hurt that Bilbo had lied to him and he sincerely hoped that Gandalf had not known of this for overlong. His hopes were dashed as Gandalf spoke and in place of the hurt and hope, rage swelled to life at the wizard's negligence.

"A few years after your quest," Gandalf replied, sighing at the pain he could see in the dwarf. "I grew interested in his Ring and asked to see it—magic rings of invisibility are _very_ rare, you know— and he grew defensive. It made me suspicious so I began pressing him for details of what had occurred in the caves. His story began to crumble and eventually I gleaned the truth. I began to believe even then that the Ring might be more sinister than a simple trinket that granted invisibility."

"And you left it with him," Thorin snarled. "You _knew_ that it was corrupting him and you left it with him?! And you profess to care for him! How many times have you lectured me in my treatment of him and you _dared_ to leave him in more danger than I ever led him into. I only risked his life—a risk he _consented_ to, Gandalf—but _you_. . . you risked _him_. The very essence of what makes Bilbo _Bilbo_ and you risked it! Why?" Gandalf seemed to deflate before Thorin's eyes, suddenly growing older and wearier.

"I do not know," Gandalf whispered. "I only hope that it is not too late." Thorin said nothing, but the angry growl he let out more than said it for him. In that simple sound Gandalf heard what he truly meant. What Thorin had meant to say was, 'It had better not be. For your sake.'

**ooOO88OOoo**

Bilbo moaned as he heard a knock on the door and curled more tightly under his blankets. He knew that they would just go away. This had been happening off and on all afternoon. Frodo would come to the door, knock, call through it and when he received no reply go away only to repeat the cycle later. This time, no call came. Instead the door was opened and booted footsteps sounded as whoever it was that was disturbing him entered the room. He did not bother to open his eyes to see who it was and tried to regulate his breathing so that it would appear he was asleep and they might leave him in peace.

"You can fool many people by feigning sleep, Bilbo Baggins. I am not one of them," a voice that he had dreaded to hear all afternoon said harshly from above him. "You and I have things to discuss. Sit up."

"Go away, Thorin," Bilbo muttered. "I don't want to talk to you." _I don't want to hurt you or for you to hurt me, _Bilbo thought sadly. _It is best for us both if you just go._

_**Yes, my love,**_ the Ring whispered soothingly. _**It is better for everyone if the dwarf leaves. He can hurt you no more if he is not near you.**_

"I'm afraid that I cannot do that, Bilbo," Thorin replied sitting beside him on the bed and stroking Bilbo's back soothingly, his fingers unknowingly brushing against the bruises on the hobbit's shoulders and causing Bilbo to flinch away from him. Thorin settled his hands in his lap instead before he spoke once more. "We have things to discuss, my hobbit. There have been wrongs committed on both sides of this and we need to rectify them. I do not hold you accountable for what you said to me today."

"You don't?!" Bilbo snapped sitting up abruptly with an incredulous snort and turning to face Thorin with a furious expression on his face but no madness in his eyes. "Well that's a relief. I'll have to tell my bruised shoulders that they can just stop aching. The _great_ Thorin Oakenshield does not hold me accountable for my words." Thorin flinched from the anger and pain in Bilbo's gaze. "Did it ever occur to you that I may hold _you_ accountable for yours?"

"Bilbo . . . I," Thorin began in a quiet voice only to be cut off by an angry noise from the irate hobbit.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me that you are sorry or that you did not mean it," Bilbo hissed venomously. "I've heard that from you before, Thorin. Mere days ago you _swore_ to me—**SWORE **to me!—that you would _never_ assault me again. How quickly you forget your promises, just as you always have." The last bit was said in a whisper, Bilbo unable to look at Thorin as he denounced him.

"Never _once_ have you kept a promise to me, Thorin," Bilbo sighed sadly, tears beginning to choke his words. "When we began courting you _promised_ me that you would never hurt me. That you would be good to me both in and out of bed. You _promised_ me that I would not regret my decision. You repeated the same vows when we were wed . . . Thorin . . . you broke them all." Thorin stared at him in shock at what _Bilbo,_ not the-thing-that-looked-like-Bilbo but Bilbo himself, was saying to him. There was no anger there now, only sadness, regret, and acceptance. Bilbo . . . he . . .

"You hurt me, Thorin," Bilbo continued, seeing the pain he was causing his lover but unable to stop now that he had begun. "Many times in _many_ ways. You were always so _secretive!_ So closed off. It hurt me that you would not allow me in. I had to learn about you vicariously through your _nephews_ and _Balin_. _They_ told me what _you_ should have. Despite all your fine words about loving me . . . you kept me out. And then . . . Thorin, you tried to _kill_ me. You threw me away like _garbage_. You wouldn't even listen when I tried to explain to you why I had done it." Thorin remained silent, he had no defense against Bilbo's allegations. They were all true. He had deeply wronged his mate. He knew it. He did not need Bilbo to lay out his wrongs as he was.

"We were good in bed," Bilbo said simply. "None can deny that. You . . . you did things to me that no one else ever has or ever will. As I did to you. Sexually we are quite compatible but, Thorin . . . what do we have outside of that? What do we have in common. I cannot fight, or smith, or _anything_ that you do, truly. You value gold, jewels, mountains. I thrive on light, flowers, food. What will keep us together outside of sex?"

"There is more to our relationship than simply sex," Thorin asserted. "You and I have spent many hours together talking. We are comfortable around one another. You . . . I once told you that you completed me. It was true. You . . . you balance me, Bilbo. As I do you. Alone . . . alone we are both unsteady. Without you . . . I am . . . I'm angry, bitter, cold. But with you . . . I am what you see before you. You temper me."

_**He is using you, my love,**_ the Ring whispered. _**In his entire speech all he told you was what he gains from you. What does he offer you in return, my love? What negative trait of yours does he balance? What negative traits do you have **__**for**__** him to balance?**_

"And what do you offer me, Thorin?" Bilbo asked. "I may temper you but what do you do for me? What flaw in my character do _you_ balance out? What good does your love do for me? I have thought about it today and we do have good memories but . . . the vast majority of the ones that I could call to mind were painful or upsetting. I don't know what we're doing here, Thorin."

"I thought you were happy with me," Thorin said sadly. Whatever he had been expecting, this conversation was not it. He had not expected that _Bilbo_ wanted to sever ties with him. The Ring, yes, but not Bilbo himself. _The Ring has twisted his mind,_ a part of him thought desperately. _Gandalf said as much and you have seen it yourself. He is only remembering the bad times because that is what the Ring wants him to remember. Once it's gone Bilbo will remember the good and regret his words now._ He pressed that thought away viciously. He knew better than to hope for the best. Never had that been what he received from life. Bilbo's mind would not change. The hobbit was done with him. Even so, Thorin could not do as Bilbo had asked and leave Bilbo to the Ring. He still loved him too much for that.

"I thought I was too," Bilbo said sadly. "But I wasn't, Thorin. I was _never_ happy." _**That is right, my love**_**, **the Ring whispered encouragingly. _**The dwarf never made you happy. All he did was cause you pain. Send him away**_**.**

"Do you regret our time together?" Thorin asked meeting Bilbo's hazel eyes and demanding an answer. "Do you regret what we did? Did I truly break that promise as well?"

"No," Bilbo replied. "I do not regret it. But . . . I don't know that I can continue it either. I think it would be better for us both if you leave, Thorin. All we are doing is deluding ourselves. There is no future for us. There never was. I think we both know it." Thorin felt as if Bilbo had ripped out his heart with the words. Bilbo, his Bilbo, wanted him to leave. Bilbo was done with him.

Bilbo expected an argument, but instead Thorin nodded sadly, his expression defeated."I will leave tomorrow," Thorin said in a choked whisper. "If that is what you wish, I will leave tomorrow. But . . . for tonight, will you take one final walk with me? I . . . I would . . . I would like one final memory of us. I would like to walk with you under the trees of the Shire in the moonlight just as we always spoke of. Please?" There were undeniably tears in Thorin's eyes this time and Bilbo felt his resolve for a clean break begin to weaken.

He _loved_ Thorin, seeing his dwarf in tears nearly broke him. This was not the same Thorin that he had traveled with all those years ago. This was a kinder, softer, more open version. The Thorin he had known would never have allowed Bilbo to see him cry. He would never have admitted to such a tender desire. He would never have _begged_ for it even if he did desire it. Death had softened his shell and left behind Thorin as he always should have been. Not the hard, bitter thing, but a slightly-fragile dwarf that _craved_ love and stability and dedicated himself to the object of it with the same fire that he gave everything in life that he cared for. The same drive that had led him to try to take on a dragon with thirteen dwarves and a hobbit for his nephews.

As Bilbo watched, one of the tears escaped his sapphire blue eyes and Bilbo reached out to tenderly cup his bearded cheek and wipe it away. He could deny this version—the vulnerable version—of his lover nothing. This was what he had always wanted from Thorin to begin with. He had not wanted gold or kingdoms, he had wanted the dwarf, the tenderness and kindness that he could see peering out through the cage of distance on occasion. _This_ Thorin he could be happy with.

This Thorin he _had_ been happy with the past couple of days. As he thought about it he began to realize that coming back from death had changed Thorin. He had been warmer, kinder, quicker to laugh and smile . . . He was now what Bilbo had only seen glimpses of before and Bilbo knew that he _could_ love him.

_**What of his disregard for your thoughts and feelings, my love?**_ the Ring pressed, feeling its control of Bilbo beginning to slip as he allowed his love of the dwarf to fill him. _**Even this version can harm you. What of what he did today?**_ Bilbo knew that the other voice was right, but he could still not bring himself to deny Thorin's final request.

"I will walk with you," Bilbo agreed. "One final time. But tomorrow . . ."

"I will go willingly," Thorin replied leaning into Bilbo's hand and savoring what might be the last touch they shared. "You need not have me thrown from your home. I will leave if you ask it of me in the morning. I will not force you to endure my continued presence past tonight."

**ooOO88OOoo**

**Here we are all, a new chapter :) This was originally going to be two different chapters but . . . I have a bit of a pad on this one so . . . long chapter it is! As to the vote, this one came out on the weekly updates side of things as well. So next one will be out this coming Sunday (June 9th) as next week is beyond crazy for me.**

That said, as always, thank you to all of you that have favorited or added this one to your alerts.

And an extra special thank you to those of you that reviewed!

Guest1776: Thank you :) It is a bit of a relief to know that I will not be getting angry emails for neglecting my fanfics :) And it is. I'm paying for it :) And thank you so much for you good wishes for my class :)

Guest:** It's only ass kissing if you don't like it :) And I don't mean to be cruel :( Things will begin looking up again here shortly. And in a way, stringing them out is quicker updates. You may not get as much at once, but you will get more for longer :) And I hope she doesn't, I would feel horrible if I was the cause of that! They need to suffer just a LITTLE bit longer and then I can start fixing this. Just bear with me through the angst. It'll make the fluff all the sweeter :)**

Becca:That seems to be the consensus on how to go about it :) And it wasn't this one but the Ring debacle will begin in the next one :) And yeah . . . the Ring is QUITE manipulative and does it in ways that seem plausible, only twisting the truth rather than telling outright lies, making it all the more dangerous because it's not being crazy :( And he knows something doesn't feel quite right but at the moment he thinks that it is just a dark part of his own psyche :( Poor thing :( And I am very glad that you loved it!

Guest:** Well, the vote went the other way but I hope that you will still enjoy the story :) Thank you for voting!**

Well, that's all for now so please leave me a review if you have time and/or feel so inclined. I would LOVE to know what you thought of it (especiallyif there was something that you hated)

Stickdonkeys


	25. Chapter 25

Thorin led Bilbo out the door of his home and along the path, taking a circuitous route to the clearing where he had taken Bilbo the day that Bilbo and Dwalin had fought and where he had cried earlier. He and Gandalf had decided that it might be best to do this outside and away from any prying ears. He had halfway been worried that Bilbo would not come with him willingly and had been prepared to carry the hobbit from the house bodily if it proved necessary. Gandalf only said that Bilbo had to give up the Ring willingly, not that he had to come to the meeting in the same way.

It had proved unnecessary, but what _had_ happened . . . it had broken Thorin's heart for Bilbo to say such things. Though he had never heard one before, Thorin recognized a break-up speech when he heard one. Bilbo was done with him. His hobbit no longer loved him. He had endured all of the pain, and anguish and gone through all the trouble of returning for nothing. Bilbo did not want him and he knew that Dís would want nothing to do with him. He could not return to Erebor for fear of upsetting Dáin's rule. He was alone in the world with nowhere to go.

Not for the first time in his life, Thorin cursed the Valar for what they were putting him through. He knew now for certain that they had only returned him to the world of the living to punish him. Gandalf had told him that the Ring was reacting to his presence and the threat he posed to its possession of Bilbo. If he had never returned, Bilbo might never have gone mad. If he had never returned Bilbo would have been fine.

_Yes,_ the voice that almost sounded like Bilbo's from earlier chastised, _and if you hadn't've, Gandalf might never have gotten around to taking the Ring from him at all and he might have become like that creature. _Thorin sighed. The voice was right. Gandalf _had_ been dreadfully negligent of Bilbo and might never have remembered to remove the Ring. His only hope was that it was not too late for Bilbo. Even if the hobbit never spoke to him again, he could not bear the thought of Bilbo suffering through madness for the rest of his life. He would almost rather take Bilbo's life himself rather than allow him to fade from himself. If they failed . . . he might do just that. Bilbo . . . the hobbit he knew would not want to live such a half-life and if they failed . . . that was all that he would have. It would be more merciful by far to put him out of his misery before he lost himself completely.

But the thought of taking Bilbo's life . . . Thorin knew that he could not do it, even as a mercy killing. He could not bear to be the one that shed Bilbo's blood. It was not as if he had a weapon with which to do it even if he could. He had no sword, no axe. Sting was not sufficient. The only way that he would kill his hobbit would be to painlessly behead him and Sting was not large enough to do the job. He could always borrow one of Dwalin's axes but . . . the thought of explaining to the warrior why he wanted it, of seeing the pain and understanding in Dwalin's eyes . . . no. He could not kill Bilbo, even for both of their goods.

He would not kill Bilbo and he would not allow him to live as he was. That only left him one option: the Ring had to go.

"Thorin," Bilbo said quietly from beside him, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. "Do we have a destination or are we merely wandering?"

"Does it matter?" Thorin replied with a weak attempt at a smile.

"No," Bilbo said, looking away from the pain in Thorin's eyes and smile. He couldn't stand that he had caused it. "It is only . . . this is embarrassing when you take into account that I once walked across nearly the entirety of Arda but . . . I am growing tired. We've been wandering for quite some time and I don't seem to have the energy I used to. Not today."

"We are almost to the destination I had planned, Bilbo," Thorin sighed. "It is not much further. If you would prefer, I can—"

"If it's not far I can walk," Bilbo cut in. "Provided there is a rest stop planned."

"We will spend a fair amount of time there," Thorin promised. Bilbo nodded and continued on at Thorin's side, plodding wearily along. If he recognized where they were headed he gave no sign of it. It was only when he caught sight of Gandalf that he sprang back to full life, his sharp eyes darting around warily as the madness began to stir.

"Gandalf," Bilbo said, the madness burning brightly in his eyes, "whatever are you doing here? You _and_ Thorin." At the end the tone was hard and suspicious. Unlike Bilbo, the Ring was not confused in the least as to why the dwarf and the wizard had led the hobbit out into the woods alone. It just wanted one of them to say it so that Bilbo would hear and know. Due to this, the Ring only took partial control of the hobbit, wanting Bilbo to still be there to witness it all.

"I think you know why we are all here, Bilbo," Gandalf replied. He hated to address the Ring by the name of his dear friend but he could see no other option. He couldn't very well call Bilbo 'Ring.' The hobbit eyed him darkly for a moment before realizing that it had no way to intimidate the wizard and no ammunition with which to hurt him and turned instead to the dwarf, who had proved to be such an easy target. Thorin flinched as he met Bilbo's eyes and realized it was no longer Bilbo he was dealing with; the Ring was back.

"You," Ring-Bilbo snarled. "You brought me out here so that there would be no one to stop you from harming me for ending things between us. Do you intend to kill me as you did your nephews—though how you can do it and still plead innocence this time without the ability to provoke a war to do your dirty work, I do not know—or do you _merely _intend assault me once more. I am old and frail now. An assault like the one you carried out all those years ago might just kill me."

"I intend to do neither of those things to you, Bilbo," Thorin replied, not attempting to keep the pain the Ring's words caused him from his face. He remembered what Bilbo had said only moments before about the fact that he hid his emotions being a major barrier between them and had seen how well Bilbo had responded to seeing what he was feeling. He knew that he had to use every advantage he had if he was to accomplish this task and it made it easier to focus on the task at hand if he was not preoccupied with concealing what he felt.

"Then why did you lead me here?" Ring-Bilbo demanded. "Surely if all the two of you wanted to do was _talk_ we could have done it at home where the others could see. Were you so ashamed of your plans that you hid them from your kin, Thorin? Just as you always hid things from me?"

"There is no shame to be had in what we intend to do," Thorin argued. "In fact, what we are doing is perhaps the most honorable thing I have ever done in my entire life. We know about the Ring, Bilbo."

"What of it, Thorin?" Bilbo asked, curiosity rather than madness in his hazel eyes as his lover brought up his magic Ring. Why had they brought him out here to talk about the Ring? What about it could make this the noblest thing that Thorin had ever done? Even more than settling his homeless people? And why did they have to be in the middle of the woods to do it? Bilbo would have spoken of the Ring in front of the others. They all knew of it anyway, even Frodo.

"We know that you still have it," Thorin said nonchalantly, trying to keep Bilbo with him rather than the Ring knowing that he could not reason with such an evil thing. But Bilbo . . . Bilbo he could reason with. Bilbo was logical to a fault, a trait that had infuriated Thorin more than once but one that he relied on now to see them through this.

"I-I do," Bilbo admitted confusion beginning to build within him. "But . . . but what does it have to do with anything, Thorin. It's only a trinket." He paused to give a small laugh before he continued, "A _useful_ trinket to be sure and many aspects of our quest would have gone differently without it but it's a trinket all the same."

"A trinket that led you to lie to me, Bilbo?" Thorin asked simply, the pain of the deception burning in his eyes but no condemnation in his tone. He had lied to Bilbo after all, even if he hadn't meant to do so. He was in no position to judge Bilbo for lying to him sixty years ago. No matter how it hurt him that his hobbit had.

"What?" Bilbo breathed shocked both at the statement that he had lied and the pain that he saw in Thorin that the dwarf thought he had. "I never . . . I didn't lie to you, Thorin. I . . . I don't remember . . . "

"You didn't lie to me and tell me that the creature Gollum _gave_ you the Ring as a reward for winning the riddle game instead of telling me the truth that you found it in the dark and kept it?" Thorin asked gently, tilting his head curiously as he watched the emotions that flitted across Bilbo's face. First confusion, then frustration, then finally anger as the madness took control once more.

"The wizard told you that, did he?" Ring-Bilbo demanded, taking control once more as doubt began to stir in Bilbo and turning to glare at Gandalf for giving the dwarf the information he needed to raise such doubts.

"What if I did, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked quietly. "Are you ashamed of the truth? Are you ashamed of the fact that you lied to your mate and robbed such a pitiful creature as Gollum of the one thing he valued in this world?"

"No," Ring-Bilbo spat. "I am not ashamed. He lost it and I found it. There is no wrong in that."

"Why, if there is no wrong in it, did you lie to Thorin, your _mate_, when you told him of the Ring?" Gandalf pressed, trying to tug on Bilbo's conscience and bring the hobbit back to them."You lied to him knowing full well how much it would hurt him when he learned that you had lied to him after he trusted you. When you knew just how difficult trust is for him to give out?"

Thorin shot a look of disdain at the wizard for Gandalf's less than flattering description of himself. He would _love_ to see how the wizard would have coped after having everything and everyone he loved taken from him while he was forced to watch and watching others watch while they did nothing to stop it. He made it sound as if Thorin was damaged and someone to be pitied for the damage and he resented Gandalf for using him in such a way. Until he heard Bilbo speak again and realized that it had worked. Bilbo was back. He ignored Gandalf's smug smirk as he turned his attention back to his apologetic mate.

"I . . . I don't . . . I don't know," Bilbo said with a small sound of frustration. He looked nearly panicked as he glanced back at Thorin. "I . . . I'm so sorry, Thorin. I don't know why I lied to you. I . . . I don't remember deciding to do it . . . I . . . I must have done it because . . ."

_**You did it because the dwarf is greedy, my love,**_ the Ring prompted, knowing that hearing the words coming in Bilbo's tone would hurt the dwarf more than if it said them itself. _**Do you not recall how he risked your life for gold. He would have taken the Ring from you. He would have claimed it as his own if you had not told him you won it. If you had merely found it . . . he could have laid claim to it as your contractor.**_

"I . . . I feared that you would take it," Bilbo replied wondering if that was actually what had happened. _Had_ he feared Thorin at that time? He couldn't remember ever fearing Thorin. Not even when the dwarf had been prepared to kill him. He had been heartbroken but he hadn't felt fear. To fear one had to care if one died and Bilbo had not cared. He had almost welcomed death at the time, so great was his heartbreak. _**Yes, you feared him, my love**_, the same voice whispered and Bilbo accepted it. _**It was so useful and dwarves do love gold. He sacrificed his kin for gold and you were only a contracted hobbit, after all. Not even one of his kin. What is your life worth to him?**_

"Such a _useful_ thing and gold beside," Bilbo continued seeing the logic of the quiet voice. "I know how you dwarves feel about gold. I was worried that if I had simply found it . . . I _was_ contracted as a burglar after all. Anything I found you could claim but what I'd _won_ . . . well that was a different story."

"You thought that I would rob you?" Thorin breathed incredulously. He was deeply hurt that Bilbo could think that he was so base as to rob anyone, let alone his own mate. He could never take what rightfully belonged to another. Not when so much had already been taken from him by the actions of others. He felt anger flood his veins that Bilbo knew him so poorly to think that he could do that. For a millisecond he tried to push it down before he decided not to. He may have been trying to win Bilbo back but if Bilbo wanted emotions and openness he was going to get them. All of them. With this thought in mind, Thorin made no attempt to hide his hurt or anger as he continued

"I have _many_ flaws, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin growled, anger and indignation in his tone, "and I have done _many_ things that I am not proud of—many of them involving _you_—but I have _never_ stolen _anything_ from _anyone_. You would _not_ have been the first."

"I-I know that, Thorin," Bilbo replied attempting to appease the angered dwarf still shocked at the emotion Thorin was displaying. Even if anger was not a new one to Bilbo, the hurt underneath it being on display was. He had seen anger from hurt before but then the hurt had only been there if you knew what to look for. It had only been visible in a tenseness around his eyes and mouth but now . . . now it was on full display. You would not have had to know Thorin well to know that Bilbo had just wounded him.

"I . . . I don't know where that came from," Bilbo continued squeezing his eyes shut and fisting his hands in his curly hair as his own emotions and knowledge of his mate warred with his certainty that Thorin _would_ have tried to take it. "I know that you are no thief. I don't . . ."

"It came from the Ring, Bilbo," Gandalf said gently placing a hand on the hobbit's shoulder, his heart constricting as he saw Bilbo's confusion. "My dear hobbit, that is no mere trinket you carry."

"What do you . . . " Bilbo began only to find that he could not find the words he was searching for. It was almost as if part of his brain had been blocked off when it came to questioning the Ring. He tried again and found that he was unable to think about the Ring other than to praise its usefulness. He felt panic begin to flood his veins and turned to the wizard for an explanation.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo whispered in a pathetic voice that broke the hearts of both Thorin and Gandalf at the helplessness there. "What . . . I can't . . . why?" The last word was little more than a sob and the wizard knelt to be more on Bilbo's level and placed a hand on both of his shoulders to look into his eyes.

"That Ring is evil, Bilbo," Gandalf said steadily, gently, never breaking eye contact with the hobbit before him. "It is affecting your mind. It is the reason for the thoughts that you cannot place, and the cause of your bouts of 'madness,' as you are calling them. They are not madness, Bilbo, but rather the manifestation of the Ring. It is not you, my dear hobbit. None of what you have done in those bouts of madness are your own actions."

"I don't understand," Bilbo said desperately. "It's just a ring. It doesn't have a consciousness. How can it have a manifestation?"

"What do you know of Sauron?" Gandalf asked.

"Very little," Bilbo replied even as he felt part of his mind rebel at the question. "Why?"

"That is inconsequential," Gandalf said. "You do know of him, correct?"

"I do," Bilbo agreed. "But what does he have to do with my magic Ring?"

"I believe that your Ring is _the_ Ring that Sauron forged," Gandalf replied. "It is only speculation at this point, mind, but I believe that I am right about the nature of it even if I am not correct as to its identity. The Ring _is_ evil, Bilbo. It is corrupting you."

_**The wizard lies, my love**_, the Ring whispered desperately. It _had_ to have this hobbit. Its master was beginning to stir, it wanted to return to him. If it lost this host . . . that did not bear consideration. It _had _to do what it took to keep Bilbo Baggins. _**He only wishes to take the Ring from you so that he can have it for his own. Watch, the next thing he will say is that you should give it to him. Mark my words. Just as he always has, he will only use you as a means to his own ends. Just as he did in taking you from your safe home and leading you into danger and heartbreak.**_

"Evil?" Bilbo asked suspiciously, doubts about Gandalf's motivations both now and in the past beginning to stir within him.

"Yes, Bilbo," Gandalf replied. "The Ring is evil and has a consciousness of its own."

"If that's true, why am I not evil?" Bilbo asked. "I've had it for sixty years and nothing has happened until Thorin . . . does Thorin have something to do with this?" The dwarf shifted uncomfortably at the question and the sharp glance his mate leveled in his direction. The last time he had felt this uncomfortable had been when he had been caught misbehaving by his father as a dwarfling. He had hoped that this part would not come up; he knew that it would only provide the Ring with ammunition against him but he would not lie to Bilbo. Not again.

"I-I may," Thorin replied. "We . . . the Ring may view me as a threat. It . . . it knows that the love you have for me is a threat to its possession of you. Some of this is my fault. I am so very sorry, Bilbo. I never meant to cause you more pain."

"Say I believe you," Bilbo said slowly, looking between the two of them suspiciously as he wondered if Gandalf had brought Thorin back as a means of getting the Ring for himself. "Say I believe that my magic Ring is the evil Ring of Sauron and has been poisoning my mind silently for sixty years until your return triggered it, what can we do about it? If it has so damaged my mind, what do we do?"

"If we separate the Ring from you, your episodes should fade and in time stop entirely," Gandalf said sadly. "I cannot promise that as an outcome but if it remains with you . . . this will only worsen, Bilbo. Soon, they will not be episodes. The Ring _will_ take control of you just as it did Gollum. You will become just as the creature you encountered in the goblin caves. It has already begun. You know this. You _know_ there are two consciousnesses in your body. Give up the Ring, Bilbo." _**See, my love, nothing but threats. He is trying to frighten you into relinquishing your prize. He wants it for himself. Nothing more.**_

"You want it for yourself!" Bilbo snapped, echoing the voice of the Ring. "You care not for me! You merely seek to gain a new trinket. Do you truly begrudge me this little bit of power, Gandalf?"

"Foolish hobbit!" Gandalf snapped seeming to grow taller and more menacing at the lie. "Do you know me no better than that after all this time! I do not wish you ill! I am trying to help you, Bilbo Baggins. Has the Ring truly twisted your mind to the extent that you cannot tell friend from foe? You turn on your mate, you turn on me, who is next? Frodo? Does Frodo only want the Ring for himself?"

"Of course not!" Bilbo replied. "Frodo's a hobbit! He has no such ambitions." _**Are you sure, my love, **_the Ring whispered. _**Frodo could seek power. Can you truly say that Frodo would never take it from you?**_

_Yes,_ Bilbo though vehemently. For the first time he truly believed what Gandalf had said. For the first time he began to believe that something other than himself was manipulating his thoughts. As much as it shamed him, his doubts about Thorin and Gandalf had not convinced him. He supposed it made sense, Thorin _had_ betrayed his trust once before and part of him—an unacknowledged part—had _always_ blamed Gandalf for his heartbreak. But Frodo . . . his cousin had _never_ done anything to warrant any kind of distrust from him. Frodo was good, honest, every bit a proper hobbit despite the misfortunes life had thrown at him and Frodo loved him. No. Frodo would never do anything to cause him ill and any part of him that though so was not truly part of him.

_**Are you really sure?**_ the Ring whispered, belatedly realizing its mistake and trying desperately to regain control of Bilbo._** You were once nothing more than a proper hobbit. Look at you now; not only did you go on an adventure but you took up fornicating with a **__**male**__** dwarf. No respectable hobbit would do such a thing and once you were one of the most respectable. None would now argue that you respectable in the least. Who is to say that Frodo will not follow the same path and that once he does he will not want the Ring?**_ Rather than have the effect that the Ring had hoped for, Bilbo let out a shuddering gasp before looking at Thorin with sad pleading eyes.

The dwarf flinched at the desperation there. Bilbo had never looked at him like that before. The only time that had come close had been when he had been dangling off the side of the pass in the Misty Mountains. He had looked to Thorin to save him then and was doing it once more, despite all of his words about lack of trust and love. And just as then, Thorin could not leave Bilbo to struggle alone, even if he destroyed himself in the process.

"Help me," Bilbo pleaded his voice small and his tone pitiful. Thorin could not say no. Had no desire to say no. Instead, he stepped forward and gently cupped Bilbo's cheek with his hand looking into the tear-filled eyes of his mate.

"I am trying, Bilbo," he breathed. "I will help you if you will only _let_ me. Only _you_ can save yourself from this, but I am here to help you do so in any way I can."

_**The dwarf lies, my love**_, the Ring whispered desperately. It could not lose the hobbit. Not now. Not after so long. It could feel its control slipping and knew that it needed to up the stakes. _**He is lying to you just as he always has.**_

_No,_ Bilbo thought in reply as he took in Thorin's open, unguarded expression. There was nothing there but love and devotion. He knew in that moment that Thorin was telling him the truth. Even after he had ended it between them, Thorin was still there and he only wanted to help. Thorin had nothing to gain from this and he was still there.

_He's not lying to me,_ Bilbo continued mentally_. He has never __intentionally__ lied to me and he is not lying now. True, he has broken promises, but he did mean them when he said them. He means this now. _

_**Regardless of whether or not he meant to, he still broke them**_, the Ring countered. Rather than listen to it, Bilbo looked at Thorin, determination in his hazel eyes.

"What must I do?" Bilbo asked. "What must I do to be free of this?" Thorin looked at him sadly for a moment, knowing that what he was about to say would not be well received before he sighed.

"You know what you must do, âzyungâl," Thorin said. "You know that there is only one option. Will you truly make me say it?" Bilbo looked at him almost as if he was confused and Thorin sighed once more. "You must give up the Ring, Bilbo. It is the only way." Thorin felt anger flood his veins as the-thing-that-looked-like-Bilbo swatted his hand away.

"You would say that, Thorin," Ring-Bilbo snarled taking control once more in an attempt to provoke Thorin to violence and shatter Bilbo's faith in him once more. Even if such a thing ended in Bilbo's death, it was fine. The Ring always had more control more quickly when it passed to a new host through violence. A dwarves . . . with their greed it would be simple to manipulate him. Additionally he had no one. If they would not allow the hobbit to keep the Ring, it was content to pass to the dwarf. "Your greed _would_ lead you to suggest such a thing! You have never cared for anything other than fame and greed!"

"If it was greed and desire for the Ring I would already have taken it, Bilbo," Thorin replied coldly. "You have already said that if I wished to kill you I could easily do so. If I truly wanted the Ring for myself I would not waste time attempting to persuade you to part with it. If I was as greedy as you claim, I would simply take it. If I cared so little for you as you claim your life would not matter enough for me to restrain myself from my _greed_. Clearly you are wrong about at least one of those things."

"Who's to say that you won't?" Ring-Bilbo demanded. For a moment, Thorin allowed himself to pretend that it was _his_ Bilbo that had said such a cruel thing to him and allowed the pain of such a thought into his face and his words.

"Do you truly think me capable of such a thing?" Thorin whispered. "Do you truly think that I could murder and then rob you?"

"No," Bilbo whimpered. "I . . . I don't think that. I . . . Thorin, please, help me. I . . . I don't think any of that about you. I . . . help me!"

"I want to, âzyungâl," Thorin replied moving so that Bilbo was cradled gently against his chest and whispering into the hobbit's ear. "I want to help you. Help me to help you. Give me the Ring. Or throw it away if you do not wish me to have it. Get rid of the Ring, Bilbo. If not for yourself, then do it for me. For Frodo. It hurts us to see you this way. I know that you do not want to keep hurting us, my dear hobbit." Bilbo drew a shuddering breath before Thorin felt him nod against his chest and step back slightly.

His hand shook as he reached for the pocket of his waistcoat where the Ring had resided for sixty years. He knew that it was for the best, but he was reluctant to part with it. It had been so useful. He glanced at Thorin and the dwarf gave him a reassuring smile and nod and with a deep sigh, Bilbo pulled the Ring from his pocket and held it inside his closed hand. He extended it towards Thorin, his hand still securely wrapped around the little bit of warm gold. It felt so heavy in his hand, almost as if it weighed more than it had only moments before. With a conscious effort, Bilbo forced his hand open and allowed Thorin to see the Ring for the first time.

Thorin could not keep the sneer off his face as he saw the little bit of gold that had swayed his mate against him and had done so much harm to Bilbo even before that. He had never before felt such hatred for gold. The only thing that came close was his resentment at the gold of his grandfather for causing the loss of his nephews and his mate, but then, the hatred had been more internally directed. The gold itself had not killed them; it had been his own choices that had done that. Here . . . here it was the gold itself that was intent on destroying lives. He watched as Bilbo's hand shook as if under a great weight and reached forward to place his hand on the hobbit's shoulder only to have his hand batted away before Bilbo curled around his hand protectively.

"You would strike me over a tiny bit of gold," Thorin asked in a quiet, pain-filled voice as he saw just how changed Bilbo had truly become.

"Why not?" Bilbo snarled, his voice midway between the Bilbo that Thorin loved and the voice the Ring used to speak and it simultaneously broke the dwarf's heart and filled him with rage. "You did me."

"Yes," Thorin agreed swallowing around the pain of being reminded of just what he had done to his mate all those years ago. He could still feel the sting on the back of his hand where he had struck Bilbo and could see the shock in his hazel eyes and the livid red mark on his cheek and the blood where his lip had split. All damage written into his skin and soul by Thorin's hand. Though it had paled in comparison to what had followed.

"I did," Thorin acknowledged again. "And you called me a fool for it. And rightly so. But tell me this, Bilbo Baggins. If I was a fool for doing so, what does that make _you_? You who was once the wisest of us all and told me that Erebor could not survive on gold alone and that we would need the goodwill of the surrounding lands unless dwarves were capable of eating gold, as hobbits were not. You who was the only one of us who realized that gold was not worth lives before it was too late and the lives were already lost.

"Tell me," Thorin continued around the tears that threatened to fall as the bitter memories of those fateful last days in the mountain were drug to the surface once more, "if I was a fool for losing your trust to my own gold-madness, what does that make you for losing yourself to it?" Bilbo's face softened at the admitance of Thorin's foolishness and the dwarf's praises of his intelegence but there was still a nagging voice that refused to be silenced.

"But . . . Gandalf," Bilbo began.

"My opinions on the old wizard aside," Thorin said with a snort, "he has yet to lead you wrong, Bilbo. He has been a good friend to you and has always provided you with good council. If it weren't for the stubbornness of dwarves." Thorin smirked at the wizard and thought that he saw Gandalf's mouth quirk upward before he turned back to Bilbo.

"Come now, âzyungâl, give me the Ring," Thorin said extending his hand palm up towards Bilbo. Bilbo hesitated, the voice in his mind screaming that Thorin and Gandalf were in this together and only sought his ruin. _No,_ Bilbo thought firmly as he looked from one pained set of blue eyes to the other, _they do not._ With a deep sigh, he extended his hand before he could change his mind and dropped the Ring into Thorin's hand before pulling his hand back as if he had been scalded.

As soon as it hit his skin, the Ring changed its temperature to match his own warmer temperature and grew in size so that it would fit his fingers rather than Bilbo's. Only half a second later he heard it begin to whisper to him, promising gold and power and fame. He heard himself laugh humorlessly. Sixty years ago that might have worked—no, _would_ have worked—but not now. Now he desired none of those things. What he wanted, the Ring could not offer him. With a sneer on his face, he dropped it into the envelope that they had brought just for that purpose and slipped it into his pocket to be sealed once they returned to Bag End.

Their task was accomplished. Bilbo was separated from the Ring, however, he felt no sense of accomplishment. He knew that the task was done but he could not stop himself from worrying that Gandalf was wrong about the effect that the separation would have. After all, Thorin, fate and luck had never been good friends.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**First off, I am so very sorry that this took so long, but this chapter was very difficult for me to write for some reason. Add to that that I have next to no time and well ... long delays result. I hope that it was worth the wait and I will be replying to reviews shortly.**

**As always thank you for taking the time to read and I would love to know what you thought!**

**The Ring: **** Ha! Really? ****That's**** what you chose to call yourself this time? You are aware that you picked to call yourself by one of the most hated things in this fanfic, right ... the only worse thing that you could have chose would have been "the Arkenstone" XD and nuh uh! you can't just quit rooting for the evil Ring because it's being evil lol And don't worry, Thorin's a stubborn thing. He's not going to go without one last fight :)**

**Guest:**** I'm sorry that I almost made you cry :( and as long as you pass it's all good :) We're all a little crazy here :) And I'm glad that you picked up on that :) I wondered if anyone would. And don't worry, the Ring's about out of the picture :) the stubborn greedy dwarves... I'm afraid that they're here to stay ;) But you wouldn't have it any other way, right?**

**Becca****: He is. And it's not a lie at the moment. Bilbo's very hurt and very confused but he'll get it all figured out :) And he did. Thorin cried. And you can now answer that question yourself :) and no, Gollum would not be a pretty picture for Thorin to have knowing that is where Bilbo could have been headed :( Poor things :(**


	26. Chapter 26

As soon as the Ring was in Thorin's pocket, Bilbo shuddered and took a deep breath.

"How do you feel, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked watching as the hobbit before him continually shook his head almost as if trying to discourage rather persistent midges.

"Strange," the hobbit replied, his voice revealing his confusion. "I almost feel as if . . . it almost feels like something is . . . _missing_ but it feels . . . it feels _right_. Almost as if what's missing didn't belong there in the first place."

"That's because it did not, my dear hobbit," Gandalf replied. "It was never meant to be there. This is how things were meant to be." Bilbo nodded before he stifled a yawn behind his hand.

"I'm sorry, Gandalf," Bilbo said once he could. "I'm just very tired all of a sudden. I'm rather embarrassed. I haven't even done anything today. Aside from moping in my room that is."

"It was a rather exciting day before you took to moping though," Thorin said quietly as he rejoined the conversation and wrapped an arm hesitantly around Bilbo as the hobbit swayed on his feet. He wasn't sure Bilbo would appreciate his touch after what had passed between them that evening before they left the house but he couldn't stand by and watch Bilbo fall.

"Thorin," Bilbo said looking up at him with sad hazel eyes. "I am so sorry about—"

"I do not need your apology, Bilbo," Thorin cut him off with a gentle smile. "Nor do I want it. It wasn't you. It was . . ." Thorin trailed off unsure if he should mention the Ring so soon after they were separated. "I do not hold you responsible, though I do hold myself responsible for my reaction. I did not injure you, did I?"

"I'm fine," the hobbit replied leaning into the familiar warmth of the dwarf and nuzzling his chest sleepily. "It's only a few bruises. I've had worse."

"That does not make me feel better, Bilbo," Thorin replied sadly. "Especially not when I was the one to give you worse. The fact that I could—"

"Thorin, can we not do this tonight?" Bilbo asked quietly, his words muffled by both Thorin's shirt and sleep. "I . . . not tonight, please?"

"If you wish," Thorin replied. "This can wait, but we will have this conversation, My—Bilbo."

"Thank you," the hobbit muttered, his eyes drifting closed. Thorin smiled indulgently at the hobbit sleeping against him. He had seen the hobbit so weary that he could not stand, but he had never seen Bilbo so tired as to fall asleep standing up. Suddenly he felt inexplicably sad. Bilbo's fatigue worried him and he only just realized what they had actually accomplished that day.

"Wizard," he said turning towards Gandalf with sad eyes as he lifted Bilbo and began making their way back towards Bag End, "tell me, is the _thing_ in my pocket the reason Bilbo has not aged? Is it because of it that he looks the same as he did sixty years ago?"

"Yes," Gandalf said sadly. "The Ring delayed the physical aging process. It is the cause of his longevity."

"So now that we've taken it . . ."

"Yes," the wizard replied simply, not needing Thorin to finish the question to know what the dwarf was trying to ask. "Bilbo will begin to age once more. But that is the natural order of things. All things that are born must someday die. As much as it pains me, that includes Bilbo Baggins."

"Will he . . . how long will he have?" Thorin asked in a choked voice. It seemed unbearably cruel to him that to save Bilbo's mind he may have just ended his life. "I mean, will he follow the same pattern that he would have sixty years ago? Will he have another fifty years or will he die tomorrow for outliving his lifespan?"

"I cannot answer that question, Thorin," Gandalf sighed. "This is nearly unprecedented. Rarely has this particular Ring stayed with a single host long enough to extend their lifespan. It actually tends to lead to their premature deaths by the hands of others who lusted for it. There is only one other that has experienced this."

"Gollum," Thorin sighed, hating that that creature was the only living thing that he could compare his mate—ex-mate, he reminded himself bitterly—to. "Do you know . . . does he still live?"

"He lives," Gandalf replied. "I do not know where he is at this time however I know that he lives." Thorin felt a bit of relief. He was unsure just how old the creature was but if he was still alive it boded well for Bilbo's continued existence.

"So there is still hope," Thorin said quietly.

"My dear dwarf, there is always hope," Gandalf replied gently. Thorin sneered at Gandalf's useless platitudes and instead turned to more practical matters, like what to do with the vile bit of gold in his pocket.

"What do you intend to do with the Ring, Gandalf," Thorin asked suddenly.

"I? I intend to do nothing with it," the wizard replied. "I will not touch the accursed thing. I dare not."

"It _cannot_ stay here," Thorin snarled irritated that Gandalf _still_ refused to take responsibility for his actions. "I will not have it near any that I care about. If you will not take it, I will destroy it. I can take it to the forge with me tomorrow and—"

"That will not work, Thorin," Gandalf replied sadly. "No forge in Middle Earth is hot enough to destroy that Ring."

"I beg to differ," the dwarf countered affronted that the wizard would seek to correct him on this matter. Gandalf may be a wizard and, as such, wise in many things but where metal was concerned, his people were the masters.

"It is gold," Thorin continued. "Gold is quite easy to melt and shape. The forge Tom runs here will melt iron. Gold will stand no chance of maintaining its shape."

"That is no ordinary gold, Thorin," Gandalf sighed. "Sauron . . . you cannot destroy it by fire. Not even dragon fire would melt that Ring. It can only be destroyed where it was forged."

"And where is that?" Thorin asked exasperatedly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he realized that Gandalf was attempting to persuade him into yet another quest. This was the same way he had gone about proposing the quest to reclaim Erebor and Thorin wished that he would just get on with it. He couldn't understand why the old wizard insisted on taking a round-about method to everything he did.

"Orodruin," Gandalf replied simply. "Also called Mount Doom. It is a volcano in the heart of Mordor. To be destroyed the Ring must be cast into the pits from whence it came."

"If it must," Thorin sighed. Even though he knew there was a new quest in the making he still hated to hear it. And to Mordor no less. _Why do Gandalf's quests always seem to be impossible to accomplish? _he asked himself. When he had met Gandalf in Bree, the wizard had offered to help him reclaim his home from Smaug but, as Thorin had learned, what Gandalf _should_ have said was: '_Yes, Thorin, I will help you retake your home from the dragon Smaug, though I do intend to disappear quite frequently and only reappear at the last possible moment. Did I say "help"? What I meant was, I will guide you but the dragon . . . he is your problem, my dear dwarf, not mine. And terribly sorry about the two months you spent in a dungeon. Dreadful business that.'_ Thorin sighed once more, knowing that this new quest would be much the same. Even so, he also knew that he had no choice but to offer to go.

"After Bilbo's birthday, I will take a contingent of dwarves, if any will still follow me, and destroy the Ring," Thorin said sadly. He hated to leave even then, but he knew that it was pointless to stay. Bilbo had made his own wishes quite clear and Thorin knew that he was not welcome. No matter how it pained him to know it.

"I wish it were that simple," Gandalf replied with a sigh of his own. "The volcano has long been dormant. Until it awakens we cannot destroy the Ring."

"So you expect us to just hold onto it until the volcano becomes active once more, _if_ it ever does?" Thorin demanded incredulously. At his raised voice Bilbo stirred restlessly in his arms and he forced himself to calm so as not to wake the exhausted old hobbit.

"That is unacceptable, Gandalf," he hissed his tone quieter though his anger was no less. "The Ring _cannot_ stay here. I _will_ _not_ risk Bilbo succumbing to it once more. _You_ need to think of another solution. This entire situation is your fault, after all. Had you never involved him in my quest none of this would have ever happened. You _will not_ neglect his needs again. The Ring must leave."

"And where would you have it go, Thorin Oakenshield?" Gandalf demanded. "Who would you risk to ensure that it leaves the Shire." Thorin did not reply but his glare said it all. He would risk whomever to ensure that Bilbo remained safe.

"There is nowhere it can go," Gandalf sighed wearily. "The Elves will not take it. Nor will I. Nor will Saruman. The only place that would be left would be your own people. The Ring _might_ be able to remain in the treasury of Erebor, safe from those who would use it for ill. However it is also possible that its mere presence would be enough to pollute Dáin's mind as it did your own. And as your grandfather's ring did both Thráin and Thror's. Could you live with that, Thorin?" Thorin sighed. He knew that he could not. He would not risk his cousin's mind and the fate of his people.

"I cannot stay here," Thoin repeated almost desperately.

"I am afraid that it must," the wizard said. "Hobbits truly are marvelous creatures, Thorin. They are peaceful until they are riled and even then their hearts are gentle and filled with mercy. Bilbo's mercy in how he took the Ring—his refusal to kill Gollum—is what enabled him to retain some of himself after so long. I know that the reason you fear the Ring staying here so is the peacefulness of this land but that is the very thing that makes this place ideal."

"So you would hide evil in a land of peace," Thorin sighed. "You take a high risk, Gandalf. Are you _certain_ that there is no other way."

"I wish that I were not," Gandalf replied. Thorin thought about it for a moment and he had a sudden idea.

"You said that there is no way to destroy the Ring, yes?" Thorin asked.

"Not outside of Mordor," Gandalf qualified. Thorin nodded knowing that was what the wizard had meant.

"If I was to encase it in iron would that be enough to muffle its pull on Bilbo?" Thorin asked. "It cannot leave the Shire, and it cannot stay near him. What if I was to encase it in iron and burry it? Would that work?"

"It is possible," Gandalf said. "I cannot guarantee that it will. Nor can I say that it will not. I cannot see where it would do any harm." Thorin nodded. It was decided. He would do just that. By this time they had arrived back at Bag End and Thorin offered the wizard a nod of thanks and Gandalf opened the door for him.

"Let me put him in his bed and then I will return for us to talk more on the matter and perhaps begin the initial preparations for the quest when it does become possible," Thorin said walking past Gandalf and into the home.

"You will not be staying with him?" Gandalf asked in surprise.

"No," Thorin replied, refusing to explain further. It was not Gandalf's business what happened between him and Bilbo in private.

"He did not mean what he said," Gandalf said, thinking Thorin was upset with Bilbo over the conversations he had overheard and refusing to be near him. He did not miss the hurt that flashed through Thorin's blue eyes, but the dwarf said nothing more and simply walked into Bilbo's room, closing the door behind him with his foot. Gandalf watched him go sadly. He only hoped that Thorin could find it within himself to forgive Bilbo for the things that the Ring had said. They both deserved happiness. Shaking his head, he walked into the kitchen to relay the success of their endeavor to the others.

**ooOO88OOoo**

As soon as the door closed behind him, Thorin felt himself relax slightly. He was still livid with Gandalf for insisting that the Ring remain in the Shire but he could almost see the wizard's point. With a sigh he laid Bilbo on the bed and began carefully removing the articles of clothing that Bilbo had always removed before sleep, folding them neatly and setting them on the bedside table. His movements were slow and gentle and Bilbo did not even stir as he was undressed. It was with a pang of regret that Thorin remembered the first time he had undressed another like this.

It had been his nephews. They had been so tiny, Fíli was barely even waist-high, Kíli smaller than that. It had been after an outing. They had both been so weary that they had been asleep on their feet. He remembered the way they had both felt nearly insubstantial when he had taken mercy on them and lifted the stumbling dwarflings into his arms and carried them home. It had been a bit of a distance but they were so light that even with one in each arm they had not been a burden. He had gone to put them to bed and his sister had charged him with divesting them of their clothing and boots before they were put into bed. He had been so afraid that he would harm them as he worked their limp little limbs from their sleeves and pant legs but he hadn't even managed to wake them. He had to swallow hard against the lump that formed in his throat as he remembered having to pry Kíli's hand from Fíli's hair to undress them only for Kíli to reach for his brother again in sleep and curl up against him, Fíli's golden mane tangled in his pudgy little fingers. They never outgrew that.

Even on the quest, they had slept that way; Fíli curled protectively around Kíli while Kíli clung to his brother's hair in sleep. Thorin knew because he had often found himself checking to see if they were sleeping soundly, sitting beside them for a moment and taking the chance to affectionately stroke their hair out of their closed eyes. He made sure that no one ever saw him do it, but he did it all the same. He had loved them, even if he had had difficulties showing it. And despite his occasional dark thoughts otherwise, he knew that they had know. He still remembered the knowing smirk on Fíli's face when he returned Thorin's blanket to him one morning after he had caught the boys shivering and covered them with it. Thorin had told him that it must have been an error in packing. Fíli had agreed, but his smirk revealed his knowledge of what had actually happened even if he hadn't pressed the matter. Yes, his nephews had known that he loved them.

He closed his eyes sadly, missing them once more before he pressed down the feeling. There was nothing to do about it. They were gone and they were not coming back. Just as Bilbo now was. He may still be alive, but he was lost to Thorin forever by Bilbo's own wishes. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and bent to press a gentle kiss to the sleeping hobbit's forehead before he rose and made to leave. He stopped as he felt a small hand grasp his wrist and turned to see Bilbo gazing up at him with sad hazel eyes.

"Stay?" Bilbo asked. "Please?" Even now, Thorin could deny Bilbo nothing and lay himself beside Bilbo. His heart broke anew as Bilbo snuggled into his arms as he always had and pillowed his head on Thorin's shoulder with a contented sigh before drifting into sleep once more. Thorin sat awake long into the night, stroking Bilbo's curly hair and watching his ex-lover sleep knowing that this might be the last chance he would ever have to be privy to such an intimate moment with the hobbit. In the morning, Bilbo would once more ask him to leave and Thorin would do as he was told. He would respect Bilbo's wishes in this and every matter, no matter how it pained him. But for tonight, he would watch over the hobbit one final time and pray that morning never came.

**ooOO88OOOo**

There we are all, a new chapter of this one! I hope that you enjoyed it. Odds are I will not be getting a new chapter up next week as I have my final exam but the good news is that after that I have 3 weeks free that I can write all I want :) So we will try to get some more chapters sandbagged for once school starts again :)

Guest: I did :) And it does tend to make for longer updates, doesn't it? And yay for more fanfic reading time! And I'm glad that you enjoyed how it played out! And I did *sighs* I hate to say it but I wasn't very pleased with the trailer *cowers from angry fans* there was just so much CGI (and not even good CGI) just in the trailer alone. I'm not sure how I feel about the new movie :/ Which sucks because I was very excited to see it before the trailer. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! and that you pass that test whenever they do get around to giving it to you ;)

Guest 1776: I'm glad that I still have you interested. Now for the build up to the next big face-off: Thorin v. Dis. I am glad that you still feel that this story is always worth the wait. Thank you!

Guest: Hey, it took me forever to update, it can take you as long as you need to read :) And it was, but there was just no good place to cut it so I gave it all to you in one go :) I didn't figure you would mind too much ;) And they did turn out alright in the end. Even though I am sorry that I made you sad :( And it was not Ring-Bilbo. Sadly it was Bilbo-Bilbo under the influence of the Ring that broke up with Thorin. An angry Bilbo but it was Bilbo all the same :(. And I'm glad that you loved that :) I was having issues differentiating between them and just decided that I would do it that way:)


	27. Chapter 27

But as always happens, dawn came. And when it did, it found Thorin in much the same place he had been the night before. He was still laying next to Bilbo in the bed and still awake, watching as the hobbit slept peacefully beside him. As the first rays of dawn began to creep through the window, his new hope was that Bilbo would sleep just a bit longer and allow him to hold onto this moment just a bit more. But almost as if fate had heard his wish and wanted to twist the blade, Bilbo began to stir, a hum in his throat and a smile on his face as he slowly came to consciousness.

Thorin froze in his stroking, hoping that if he was still Bilbo would drift off to sleep once more, but it had the opposite effect. At the loss of the stimulation, Bilbo's hazel eyes flew open and blearily locked on Thorin's face. The hobbit's first thought was that Thorin looked decidedly disheveled and immeasurably tired and sad. He could never remember seeing the dwarf look so exhausted or so defeated. It was painful for him and he extended his hand slowly to cup his dwarf's face.

"Did you not sleep at all?" Bilbo whispered when Thorin's tired blue eyes drifted shut at the contact. His only answer was a small shake of the dwarf's head. "Foolish thing! Even _you_ need sleep, Thorin. Whatever made you think that staying up all night was a _good_ idea?" The look in Thorin's eyes as they opened once more nearly caused Bilbo to flinch. He had never seen such pain in their sapphire depths before.

"If this was the last night I would get to hold you I did not intend to waste it sleeping," Thorin replied simply. Bilbo felt his heart break. Now Thorin's sadness made sense and he knew that it was his fault. _He_—not the Ring—had been the one to tell Thorin that he was done. As he replayed their conversation the day before in his head, he realized that he didn't _want_ Thorin to go. They needed to talk, that was true, and they needed to slow things down a bit but . . . so many of the things that he had said had been untrue. Thorin hadn't only brought him sorrow. They _had_ been happy, even if the dwarf was a bit standoffish at times. Thorin had not only destroyed his life; he had saved it. While it was true that Thorin had hurt him, both emotionally and physically, he had also helped him learn his own inner strength in the process and—now that Bilbo was free of the Ring he could see it—_had_ been goaded into it both times.

While the Arkenstone debacle _had_ been an overreaction, Bilbo could now see where Thorin had come from. How many times had the dwarf spoken of that stone to Bilbo in awed tones? Bilbo had _known_ what it meant to Thorin and he had still given it away. He had actually _relied_ on Thorin's fondness for the family heirloom to coerce him into submission and negotiation. He had acted foolishly. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Thorin had felt as betrayed by Bilbo as the hobbit had by him. Just as he had in the kitchen. Once more, Bilbo—or the Ring—had taken something said to him in confidence and used it against Thorin in public.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo whispered, unable to look at Thorin as he confessed his own faults.

"Don't be," Thorin replied harshly. "You have made the decision that is best for you. None, let alone me, can fault you for that. I only hope that you find the happiness you deserve, Bilbo. I . . ." Thorin paused to swallow heavily before he could continue, "I wish nothing but the best for you, my Burglar, even if that does not include me. I will always love you, Bilbo Baggins. In this life and the next." He made to stand, but Bilbo stopped him by refusing to release his hold on the dwarf.

"Stay," Bilbo repeated. "I'm not done just yet."

"What more do you wish to say!?" Thorin demanded angrily. "Is it not enough that you have thrown all of my failings back in my face? That you revealed every way that I have failed you as a mate? That you have made your wishes to me clear? What more do you _want_, Bilbo? If you wish to speak more on my faults, I would ask that you just cut my heart from my chest now. It could hurt no less and the effect will be the same."

"I don't want any of that, Thorin," Bilbo said, tears filling his eyes at the pain in Thorin's voice. "I . . . I want to apologize for ever having done any of that. I shouldn't have. Just as I shouldn't have stolen from you all those years ago." Thorin blinked at him in shock. When had Bilbo—_no,_ he thought vehemently. _He can't mean to discuss __**that**__ yet again. _Thorin didn't know that his heart could take another fight over that thrice-damned stone.

"We have discussed this," Thorin spat. "You were not a thief. I never should have called you one. What more do you want me to say? Do you want it signed in blood that I erred? Do you want a public statement that I was a fool? I have apologized! More than once! What more do you want?!"

"I want you to let me speak!" Bilbo snapped back. "I swear! You are the most infuriating dwarf in all of Arda! Here I am trying to apologize for wronging _you_ and you act as though I want you to beg for forgiveness."

"Why do you want to apologize?" Thorin asked sadly. "I was the one who tried to kill you, who insulted you and threw away your love over a stone."

"And I was the one who knowingly took something you valued and gave it to those who came to you with armies to demand what was yours," Bilbo countered. "I wasn't entirely blameless, Thorin. I _knew_ what I did. I . . . I didn't expect you to react with quite the . . . I'm not even sure what to call it. But suffice it to say that I did not expect _that_ reaction. Even so I knew that what I did would hurt you. I just . . ." Bilbo shrugged sadly and offered Thorin a smile before he continued, "I thought that it would be worth it in the end. That if I had to hurt you to save you, so be it. I . . . I thought that I had the right to force you into a negotiation that, looking back, you attempted to take part in anyway. What I, in my youth, took for stubborn greed . . . you really were just looking out for your people. I see that now."

Thorin opened his mouth to argue and Bilbo shook his head in reply, placing a gentle hand over the dwarf's mouth to silence him. "Let me have my say and then you can tell me where I went wrong," Bilbo offered. He waited for Thorin to nod before moving his hand from the dwarf's mouth to stroke his bearded cheek with a thumb.

"I now see that had you given in as I wanted you to it would have boded ill for your kingdom," Bilbo said. "If you had . . . Bard and Thranduil would have seen that at the first hint of threat you caved to demands. Erebor would have been overrun. Waiting for Dáin . . . what I took for dwarvish pigheadedness was actually wisdom of a sort. You were never seeking a war, were you?" When Bilbo said nothing more, Thorin realized that it was a question that he was supposed to answer.

"I do not know," Thorin answered eventually. "I . . . I don't remember what I was thinking at the time, Bilbo. I don't believe that I actively sought war. I've seen too much of war to seek it but I did not fear it if it came to it. As to my motivations, I cannot truly speak to those either. Not as you wish me to. I fear, my hobbit, that there was some greed as a motivation. I did not see were Thranduil had any claim whatsoever to the gold we had worked to regain after he hindered us. Bard . . . well I am sure that you remember my words to him."

"You told him that he did have a claim and to come back without the army if he wished to discuss it," Bilbo replied.

"And I still hold that he did, though I do not know if it was honored after my death," Thorin said nodding sadly. "I hope that it was."

"It was," Bilbo replied. "As was my own. Dáin made good on your debts. Though he did keep the gold that should have been yours, Fíli and Kíli's to run Erebor. He tried to give the boys' to Dís but she refused. Said that she could live out the remainder of her days on what she had and that she did not need the blood money." Thorin nodded sadly again. He had known that his cousin would behave honorably. Dáin was a good dwarf.

"Good," Thorin said after a moment. "He would not have had to worry had he just cleared his army from the plains and sent Thranduil on his way so that we could negotiate his repayment as I asked. I still do not feel as if that was an unreasonable request on my part. I did not seek to cheat him. If only he would have done as I asked . . . " Thorin trailed off, unwilling to blame his own failings on Bard. _He_ had not forced Thorin to attempt to kill his lover. That had been something he had done himself.

"That wouldn't have stopped the battle," Bilbo said sadly not truly realizing where Thorin's thoughts had gone. "The goblins and wargs would have come regardless. Nothing could have stopped that. The battle still would have come, Thorin. And without the armies of the Men and Elves it would have only gone more poorly. Fíli and Kíli . . . they still would have died. You didn't kill them." Thorin chose not to respond to that statement, he felt that Bilbo was wrong about that, but he couldn't change the past and he would not try, as much as he might wish to. Their deaths had bought his people peace and prosperity that they had not known, that Fíli and Kíli had _never_ truly known. As much as the thought pained him, he knew that their lives had not been lost in vain.

"I did, however, assault you," Thorin replied stubbornly, refusing to let Bilbo attempt to absolve him of all his sins.

"After I betrayed your trust," Bilbo countered. "I daresay it was a _bit_ of an overreaction on your part but moderation has never been one of your strong points." That last was said with a smirk. "Much like self-control."

"I would argue that my self-control is excellent," Thorin replied with a smirk of his own. "My sense of direction . . . I suppose that could be seen as a weak point, however." Bilbo snorted in response.

"And I say that you have neither but that it is acceptable as I have both in spades," Bilbo replied. "At any rate, it will not matter that you always get lost because I will always be there to get us un-lost again. Just as I will always be there to rescue your sorry hide when you get yourself into trouble again."

"What?" Thorin asked incredulously. Just the night before Bilbo had been telling him to leave and now . . . what exactly was it that the hobbit wanted from him?

"I said I will always be there to rescue you," Bilbo repeated. "I . . . what I said last night . . . I don't want you to go. I . . . I _need _you to stay with me. I've missed you. Without that vile thing whispering in my ear so many things make so much more sense. There were good times, Thorin, I just couldn't remember them. I do now. I know that it is not fair of me to ask, but don't go. Please." Thorin blinked a few times attempting to understand what Bilbo had just said.

"So now you want me to stay?" the dwarf asked in an emotionless voice as he tried to process what was happening. "You have changed your mind?"

"I do," Bilbo replied. "I have. I know that it's not fair of me to—" His words were cut off in a startled squeak as Thorin tackled him gently to the bed in an embrace and pressed his lips firmly against Bilbo's. As soon as they came up for air, Bilbo laughed and said, "I take it that means you're staying?" Thorin kissed him again in reply before he pulled back and gazed down at his hobbit, his blue eyes _burning_ with love.

"My dear hobbit," Thorin replied, "at this point you will have to kill me to be rid of me again since I will never again believe that you mean what you say when you ask me to leave. After the conviction in your words last night turning into an apology and a plea to stay today . . . I _knew_ last night that you meant what you said. If you didn't mean it then . . . no words of yours will ever convince me to leave now."

"What would it take to convince you to get off me?" Bilbo asked in a pained voice, his features pinching with discomfort. Thorin quickly scrambled to get off the old hobbit before his hands began gently searching for injury with an apology on his lips.

"I'm fine," Bilbo assured him, knocking his questing hands away impatiently. "You're just a bit heavy and . . . well, my shoulders are a bit sore from being knocked against the wall." Thorin's face fell at the reminder and he looked away. "None of that now!" Bilbo exclaimed swatting the dwarf's arm. "I'm fine, I promise. I've gotten worse injuries than this. They don't even bother me if I'm not being squished by a dwarf. It's fine, Thorin. You truly were provoked. That . . . I know it wasn't truly me, but I am so sorry that what you said to me was used against you in such a fashion. Truly."

"If that is the case," Thorin replied crossly, "then do not seek to make excuses for my behavior. Provoked or not, I knew that it was not you who was saying such things to me and yet I assaulted you in your own kitchen. There is no excuse for that, Bilbo."

"Would it make you feel better if we settled this in a physical altercation?" Bilbo scoffed. "We can step into the woods and you can allow me to beat you bloody—since we both know that there is no way I could accomplish it without you allowing it. Would _that_ make you feel better?" At Thorin's speculative expression Bilbo shook his head and snorted.

"That was a sarcastic suggestion, you foolish dwarf," Bilbo snapped. "I have no intention of beating you. I'd most likely only manage to hurt myself in the process. Besides, you are beating yourself enough for the both of us. In my mind, I . . . well, the Ring, provoked you. I saw your tears, Thorin. I know how much that hurt you. I am so very sorry that—"

"Stop," Thorin cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. "I neither want nor need your apology, Bilbo. I . . . . if you truly forgive me, can we forget it. I don't think that I am worthy of being forgiven for assaulting you again but if you wish to do so can you show it by never mentioning it again? Please?"

"I can do that," Bilbo agreed. "Now! Do you think that we are the first ones up or do you think that there will be breakfast on the table? I am quite famished today for some reason."

"It could be because you didn't eat yesterday," Thorin said with a quirk in his lips at Bilbo's return to his normal demeanor. "Not eating tends to make one famished." Bilbo only tisked in response.

"I did not ask for commentary on my eating habits," Bilbo replied with a smirk. "Now, do you think they are up or will we have to cook. And by we, I mean _I_. I remember your attempts at cooking."

"My food is more than edible," Thorin countered falling into their familiar banter with a smile. "Me and the boys survived on it for years when Dís was not with us. I didn't always travel with a cook. And I spent much time on the road."

"Just like dwarvish ale is drinkable," Bilbo muttered, earning himself a light swat.

"It's not our fault that your smaller body can't handle the alcohol," Thorin retorted. "Though I will have to convince them to build a distillery here. Hobbit ale doesn't seem to be enough to cause you to become inebriated and you are _quite_ affectionate in such a state." In reply, Bilbo molded himself to Thorin's frame.

"It wasn't the alcohol," he replied with a smile before placing a chaste kiss to Thorin's neck just below his beard in a place that he knew drove his lover mad. "It was you. You make me affectionate." Thorin let out a moan as Bilbo nipped the same spot his lips had kissed only moments before.

"Stop that," the dwarf commanded half-heartedly.

"Or what?" Bilbo purred, nipping him again and smirking as Thorin moaned and raised his head to give Bilbo better access despite his protests and requests for the hobbit to stop.

"Or breakfast will have to be delayed a while longer," the dwarf threatened. "Mahal, Bilbo, I swear that if you do that again I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"You've said that before, My King," Bilbo replied cheekily. "I've found that I quite like the results of absolving you of the responsibility for your actions."

"I . . . I'm not a king," Thorin reminded him, embarrassed at his own breathlessness. "Not anymore."

"Ah," Bilbo breathed in Thorin's ear taking the time to lick behind it for good measure and loving the way Thorin hissed at the contact, "but what you forget is that as far as I am concerned you still are. I gifted my heart to a king, you see, and a king has always held it. As that is you, you will always be my king even if to the rest of the world you are just Thorin Oakenshield, blacksmith extraordinaire." The words had the exact effect that Bilbo had believed they would and before he could even blink, he was on his back on the bed with a pillow below his shoulders.

"Do you have _any_ idea what your words do to me?" Thorin demanded as he dipped his head and began nipping along Bilbo's throat as the hobbit had done his only moments before.

"I do," Bilbo replied, his smirk evident in his words. "I know _exactly_ what they do to you. I know _you_, Thorin. I know just what to say and do to make you come undone and I love that knowledge."

"That is not one sided, Bilbo," Thorin whispered darkly. "I could do such things to you . . . in fact if you will allow it, I will. There is still the matter of our bet to be settled. It would delay breakfast but—"

"Breakfast can wait," the hobbit panted in reply. "I've gone longer without a meal for less pleasant things." Thorin growled low in his throat and it turned out that breakfast did, indeed, have to wait as it was some time before they left Bilbo's bedroom.

**oo O.O ooo888ooo O.O ooo**

**There we are :) I'm back and have three full weeks to write! I hope that you enjoyed this new chapter and if you feel the need to read smut, there is a new chapter for Past and Present Entwined that picks up where this left off! I hope you enjoy!**

**guest:**** Thank you! And they do :( Poor dears. So many complications :( And I'm sure that you will, you seem sane to me :) And we are. I'll probably see them as well just because I do want to see how Peter Jackson and the gang play all of this out. I was just a bit . . . disappointed after how well they did with the LOTR series :/ But you're right :) We are each entitled to our own opinions :) That's part of the beauty of opinions, right? And sorry it wasn't soon but I do hope it was worth the wait!**

**That's all for now folks, thank you for sticking with me,**

**Stickdonkeys**


	28. Chapter 28

Frodo was awakened from his fitful sleep by the sound of a loud moan wafting through the house. He didn't _know_ that was what woke him, only that something had. As he sat up and looked around, his confusion only deepened. It was barely dawn and everyone else was awake as well, sitting up in their respective places with indulgent smiles on their faces.

"Did you lot wake me?" Frodo demanded, "because I can assure you that I do _not_ find being woken at dawn for no reason amusing in the least." Rather than apologize as he had expected them to, the dwarves shocked him by bursting into laughter, proving their guilt in his opinion.

"It's not funny!" he snapped.

"Lad," Dwalin said leaning forward to ruffle his hair just to irritate him, "it is, just not for the reason you think."

"Then enlighten me," Frodo said, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously as his hands came to rest on his hips. Rather than have the intimidating effect he had been hoping for, the dwarves laughter only grew stronger and Frodo could have sworn that he heard a chuckle from the wizard as well.

"Just _what _is so amusing?" Frodo demanded, beginning to grow more than merely irritated with the lot of them.

"Let's just say this, lad," Balin finally managed to say, though he couldn't bring himself to look at the irate young hobbit as he did for fear of bursting into laughter once more, "you may not be Bilbo's but he has had more than influenced your mannerisms."

"What?" Frodo asked, his face relaxing from fury into a mask of confusion and his hands falling to his sides as he tried to make sense of the fact that they weren't actually laughing _at_ him but rather his resemblance to his uncle.

"That is almost word-for-word what your uncle said the first time we woke him at dawn," Bofur chortled. "And I was the one that woke him but I wasn't the only one he yelled at, was I lads?"

"No," Balin agreed. "It had to have been the funniest thing I'd ever seen in my life up until that point."

"Aye!" Dwalin agreed.

"What happened?" Frodo asked, all irritation forgotten at the prospect of hearing yet another story that Bilbo had never told him.

"Well, while your uncle was yelling at me for waking him a "such an _unreasonable_ hour," Thorin came over to see what all the fuss was about," Bofur explained. "Now, what you have to remember is that this was within the first couple of days. Thorin and you're uncle . . . well let's just say they didn't get along horribly well. In fact, I thought Thorin hated him."

"No lad," Balin corrected, "Thorin didn't hate him. He just didn't think he had any buissness being on such a dangerous quest. Told me so himself when I said that he might want to try to be nicer to the hobbit as he really was trying and wasn't doing all that poorly."

"Anyway," Bofur said, "So, Thorin came over to see why Bilbo was yelling so early in the morning. Now, you don't know him as well as we do, but Thorin is not really _sociable_ in the mornings."

"Not that he was sociable at all back then," Dwalin said. "Never knew if he was going to ignore you or snap at you."

"So," Balin said, ignoring his brother, "Thorin comes over to tell your uncle off for yelling so early and rather than apologize—which was what Thorin, and all of us, had expected—Bilbo turned on _him._"

"And what a sight it was!" Dwalin laughed. "Such a little thing bowing right up to Thorin with his hands on his hips and laying into the king of the dwarves like he was his mother and Thorin was in need of a scolding. Seemed to think he was intimidating."

"Thorin wasn't impressed," Balin added dryly. "Just stared down at the hobbit like he had lost his mind before he told us to pack up and move out, "unreasonable hour or not"."

"He was by the end!" Bofur chimed in. "We all were. Let me tell you, lad, when your uncle got _that_ look in his eye even _Thorin_ thought twice about arguing with him and even Fíli and Kíli wouldn't prank him in one of those moods."

"Especially if he was hungry," Balin said. "It's no surprise to me that you hobbits eat so often. Probably began when one of you was foolish enough to allow himself to get hungry and realized just how fiery your tempers actually are. A rabid warg has _nothing_ on your uncle's ferocity when he's hungry."

"I _still_ say that's how we should have dealt with Smaug," Dwalin said. "We _should_ have let Bilbo miss a meal or two and then sent him through the front gate. The hobbit would have strangled the dragon with his own tail!"

"Just like Thorin nearly did you with your braids when you suggested it, Brother!" Balin said with a laugh. Dwalin merely shrugged unconcerned. He had known that Thorin wouldn't really kill him. Hadn't even really offered to do it. _That_ had been Bilbo.

"Lads, do you think we might should look into breakfast?" Bofur asked. "Bilbo didn't really eat yesterday and when they're done in there . . ." he trailed off suggestively but it wasn't as if he needed to finish the thought. The others were already in motion and heading for the pantry for breakfast stuffs.

"Why do they think that Uncle will be hungry when he comes out of his room?" Frodo asked Gandalf. "I mean, I know he _will_ be since he didn't eat yesterday but why—" Frodo cut himself off as a rather lewd moan came from his uncle's room.

"Are they?!" Frodo demanded, his face going bright red and his words choking off as he was unable to finish the thought, to disturbed by the idea of what his uncle was clearly doing behind closed doors. When Gandalf nodded with a shrug and an expression that clearly said 'what do you expect, they are a couple' all of the color drained from Frodo's face.

"Are you alright there, Frodo?" Bofur called from the stove.

"Fine." Frodo replied in a weak voice as he began to sway slightly where he sat.

"Are you sure, lad?" Dwalin asked. "Because to me you look like you're about to," Dwalin paused as another noise came from the couple's room and Frodo promptly keeled over.

"Faint," he finished with a laugh.

"So, what does that bring the total up to, lads?" Balin asked with a sigh.

"Dwalin two, Bilbo and Thorin three and one each for you and I," Bofur replied. "And none for Gandalf."

"You need to step up your game, Brother," Balin said with a laugh just as Gandalf asked, "What exactly is this 'total'?"

"We've noticed that hobbits are rather excitable things," Bofur explained.

"So you are betting on how many times you can 'excite' poor Frodo?" Gandalf asked, laughing slightly at how quickly the poor young hobbit had become the subject of a bet.

"Yes," they agreed.

"What are the stakes?" Gandalf asked shrewdly. "And what is the time limit?"

"Oh, no, Gandalf!" Dwalin said. "You're not getting in on this one. It's been going on for a few days now and we all know who you will chose to win. Last thing we need is you using your wizardly wiles to sway it in their favor any more than it already is."

"I only use my 'wizardly wiles' for much more important things that a bit of gold," Gandalf replied, in mock indignation. "And perhaps I was going to bet on myself. You do not know for sure that I would place my money on Bilbo and Thorin."

"Were you?" Balin asked.

"No," Gandalf agreed. "But your brother did not know it. So what do you say, I have a pouch of gold that says Bilbo and Thorin will win this contest. Would any of you like the chance to win it?"

"How many times do you think they'll manage it?" Bofur asked, more than willing to add Gandalf's money to the pot.

"When is the contest up?" Gandalf asked in reply.

"Their birthday," Dwalin said, sighing in resignation.

"That is a week away," Gandalf said talking to himself as he thought. "They have already managed it three times and they are just now becoming particularly amorous since the Ring is gone . . . hm . . . I will say they can do it an even dozen times before their birthday."

"A dozen?!" Balin exclaimed. "You think they can make the lad faint a dozen times in the next week?"

"This is Bilbo and Thorin we're talking about," Bofur said with a laugh. "They traumatized _Dwalin_. They might just be able to pull it off."The others shook their heads indulgently thinking that the wizard had finally gone senile but more than willing to take his money when he was willing to make such foolish bets.

**ooOO88OOoo**

By the time that Bilbo and Thorin emerged from their room, Frodo was conscious once more—if a bit paler than usual—and the dwarves, Gandalf and Frodo had already finished with breakfast. The atmosphere grew tense as they heard Bilbo's door open. They knew that Gandalf had said the Ring was gone from Bilbo but they weren't sure what to expect from the old hobbit. Would he still be depressed? Angry? or more like himself? Their answer came when Bilbo's voice wafted down the hall to them, bright as it even had been and filled with a trace of laughter.

"I know that I smell food," Bilbo called. "And as it came from my pantry there had better be some left for us. I am _quite_ famished." When Bilbo came around the corner, hand in hand with Thorin and rather pleased looks on both of their faces, Dwalin felt it was safe to comment.

"There was food," he said. "However you've missed it. You and Thorin should know better than to plan your excursions before breakfast if you want any. There were three hungry dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard in here. There's nothing left. You'll have to go shopping before you can eat."

"What?" Bilbo laughed incredulously. "We just went what, three days ago? There should still be plenty of food. Frodo and I only go once a week!"

"Aye, but that's for two hobbit," Balin said. "Four dwarves, two hobbits and a wizard require more provisions."

"And more ale," Bofur added. "We're out of that as well."

"You're joking, aren't you?" Bilbo said. "We bought _three_ barrels of ale! How much have you lot been drinking?!"

"Bilbo, did you forget just how much dwarves like ale?" Thorin asked with a laugh. "And with such weak ale . . . We really only bought one barrel."

"Is dwarven ale really that strong?" Frodo asked. "Does it really count as three times the amount of hobbit ale?"

"Oh, Frodo my lad, don't get them started on the merits of dwarven ale," Bilbo sighed just as Dwalin clapped him on the shoulder saying, "We'll have to let you try it for yourself, lad. Once Bilbo gives us the go ahead we'll have to return to Erebor to fetch our families at any rate, you can come along if you'd like and we'll go to a dwarven tavern and you can tell us."

"No!" Bilbo said suddenly. They all turned to him in shock, save for Thorin who had an equally horrified look on his own face at the prospect of sweet little, timid Frodo leaving the Shire and crossing both the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood.

"Beg pardon?" Dwalin said. "Just what that I said do you object to? You let the lad drink, where's the harm in giving him a real drink."

"He . . . he's not going," Bilbo breathed. "You . . . you can't take him all the way to Erebor! He's just a child!"

"I'll be an adult next week, Uncle," Frodo reminded him gently. "But don't worry. Thank you, but . . . I've heard far too much about the road to Erebor. I . . . I'd love to see it but . . ."

"It's alright, lad," Dwalin said gently. "You don't have to go. I just thought that I'd invite you in case you wanted to. The offer's still there if you change your mind." Frodo nodded and Dwalin clapped him gently on the shoulder again before directing Bilbo and Thorin to the counter, where food was waiting for them.

"There's food, right there," Dwalin said. "Though we do need another shopping trip. Me and the lads can pitch in on the bill. We are the ones eating most of it."

"No," Bilbo said grabbing the two plates that were there and bringing them back to the table. "You're my guests. I can more than afford to feed you. Don't worry about that. After all, you have ten children to feed and if they eat half as much as the three of you that can't be an easy task."

"Would one of you care to explain to me why Dwalin just said that they need to fetch their families from Erebor?" Gandalf said once the feud over Frodo leaving the Shire had calmed. The three dwarves exchanged glances before looking to Thorin to explain it to the wizard.

"Oh no!" Thorin said with a laugh as he began to eat. "The three of you came up with this plan, you get to pitch it to the wizard. I'm the one has to explain it to the Thane, after all. You can explain it to Gandalf." He didn't mention that he was still feeling a bit miffed at Gandalf and had no intention of talking to the wizard unless it was absolutely necessary and this was a time when it was not.

"We're moving here," Dwalin said with a shrug. "Us, our families and whomever of the company wants to come."

"Maybe Thorin's sister," Frodo chimed in.

"Is this what you were talking about the other night when you were discussing setting up a forge here?" Gandalf asked. "I thought you meant to build one just for Thorin, not for a dwarven settlement. Have you spoken to _anyone_ about this?"

"Bilbo agreed," Bofur said with a shrug of his own.

"No I very well did not!" Bilbo said with a laugh. "I told you it was an insane idea and that the hobbits would never allow it and that you were all mad."

"Did you tell them they couldn't?" the wizard asked, pleased to see just how well Bilbo had bounced back from his stint of Ring possession. He just hoped this would last.

"No," Bilbo said. "I told them not to plan anything concrete until after my birthday and to not get too attached to the idea until we spoke with Paladin but it's not my place to tell them no. Not like it would do any good anyway. You know as well as I do the bane that is the stubbornness of the dwarves."

"That I do," Gandalf said with a sigh to the general outcry of the dwarves. But it was all in fun, they knew that their race was a stubborn one, though they preferred the term "tenacious."

"You don't always think my stubbornness is a bane," Thorin whispered nipping Bilbo's ear.

"I do so," Bilbo replied. "I would much prefer a pliant lover who I could command than one who . . . there are no words to describe you, Thorin. None whatsoever."

"None polite, you mean," Thorin replied pulling Bilbo's head against his shoulder and resting his cheek on the hobbit's head, allowing his eyes to drift shut. His friends were laughing, Bilbo was happy and sane, Frodo wanted to remain in the Shire and they were all alive and well. The situation was not perfect, but he truly could ask for no more. With such contentment around him, and his stomach full, the lack of sleep the night before began to catch up to the dwarf and before he knew it—and without the conscious decision to do so—he was napping propped against Bilbo sitting up at the kitchen table.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, a new one with not a whole lot of action... meh. It should really start moving along in the next few chapters, we've been a bit bogged down but the Ring really just ... yeah. So with it mostly out of the way, we can now hit the last stretch for the party :)**

**And thank you so much to all of you that reviewed! You really do make my day.**

**Guest:**** Thank you! And I enjoyed writing them happy and together and am glad that you enjoyed reading it! And true. That might be reason enough to go ;) And congratulations! I knew you'd pass :) And I'm glad that I could help :) There are always multiple sides to every story :) As to your review on the outtakes (since it may be a bit before I get a chapter up on that) I think that was what was bugging me! Not ten minutes before they start this Bilbo's like "oh let's slow this down" and then the opportunity presents itself and he changes his mind to "ooor we could just have sex. Sex is good. Let's." However I am glad that you loved the kink :) Thank you for your reviews! **

**And that's all for now folks. Remember, love it or hate it I would love to know what you thought!**

**Stickdonkeys**


	29. Chapter 29

Bilbo sat there, just enjoying this proximity to Thorin even as the dwarf began to put more of his weight on the hobbit than he was accustomed to. He tried to pull away as it became uncomfortable, but Thorin merely shifted as he did.

"Thorin," Bilbo said quickly thinking of an excuse so he didn't have to tell his lover that he was crowding him. "I'd . . . I'd like to get some tea, if you don't mind." There was no reply from the dwarf in question, though the rest of them and Frodo were beginning snigger and even Gandalf had a smile on his face. Bilbo glanced at them before he tried to look up at the very large and very heavy dwarf that was currently squishing him.

"He's asleep, isn't he?" Bilbo sighed looking at the others. A quiet snore from Thorin was answer enough. Bilbo sighed. Of _course _Thorin would think it was a good idea to stay up all night and then fall asleep at the breakfast table using Bilbo as a prop.

"I don't suppose any of you want to help me get him off, do you?" Bilbo asked wincing as the words left his mouth and he realized how they were likely to be taken. But no one rose to the bait. As normally as Bilbo was behaving that day, they had no desire to test him just yet. But they also had no desire to disturb a sleeping Thorin.

"Afraid we can't," Bofur said with a shrug. To which the other dwarves and Gandalf nodded.

"Can't or won't?" Bilbo muttered.

"Won't," Dwalin replied. "You know what he's like if you wake him. I want no part of that."

"So you expect me to just sit here until he decides to wake back up?" Bilbo demanded, more than a bit miffed with them. They were overreacting. Yes, Thorin could be a bit cantankerous if you woke him, but he wouldn't wake in shifting him off Bilbo and onto the table.

"Aye," Balin said pressing a cup into his hand. "Here's that tea you wanted." Bilbo glared at him from under Thorin and turned to his nephew.

"Frodo, be a good lad and fetch a pillow from the couch," Bilbo ordered.

"Wouldn't one from your bed—"

"The couch, Frodo, my lad," Bilbo cut him off, quite mindful of the fact that his room still wasn't straightened up from their romp earlier. Last thing he needed to do was traumatize poor Frodo. Now that they had the luxury of closed doors what happened behind them should stay behind them. The younger hobbit gave his uncle an odd look but nodded and came back with a couple of pillows.

"Good," Bilbo praised. "Now move that plate and put them on the table."

"You're going to make him sleep here?" Frodo asked, surprised that Bilbo would do that. For years he had said that the table was not an appropriate place to sleep, save if one fell asleep writing and even then it was a poor substitute for a proper bed.

"Yes," the old hobbit said with a laugh."He's the one that chose to fall asleep at the table, he can just sleep here. Besides, he's quite heavy and I don't fancy trying to haul him to bed. Maybe waking up with a crick in his back will teach him to sleep when a bed presents itself."

"Thorin's slept worse places than your kitchen table," Balin said, laughter in his own voice at Frodo's troubled look at his uncle's callous behavior towards the dwarf Bilbo claimed to love. "I doubt this will trouble him overmuch."

Bilbo nodded a sad half-smile on his face at the reminder of what Thorin had endured in his lifetime. "Are you sure that none of you will help me?" he asked. They all shook their heads. "Alright then. Frodo, this may be a bit of work, lad, but I want you to lean him back a bit and support his weight until I can scramble out from under here and help you lay him down."

"Uncle," Frodo said warily, "why won't they help?"

"Because they're cowardly scoundrels who take far too much amusement in my suffering," Bilbo deadpanned ignoring their protests at being called cowardly. "Trust me, Frodo, Thorin is _mostly_ harmless. And he's unarmed. You'll be fine." Frodo seemed unconvinced but did as he was told and leaned the sleeping dwarf backwards against him surprised at just how heavy he actually was. It took Bilbo only a moment to come to his aid and together the two of them leaned Thorin forward onto the pillows, where the dwarf let out a small moan and nuzzled them a bit before slipping back into a deeper sleep.

"See," Bilbo said clapping Frodo on the shoulder warmly. "Easy." Frodo disagreed with his uncle's assessment of the situation and wondered what Bilbo would call "difficult" but said nothing and merely shook his head with an indulgent smile on his face.

**ooOO88OOoo**

It took a bit of quiet debate before they decided that it was a nice enough day that they would move their planning sessions to the garden to allow Thorin to nap in peace. There were only a handful more details to iron out before presenting the plan to Bilbo's cousin, Paladin for approval.

"Tell us the truth now, lad," Balin said looking at Bilbo levelly where the hobbit sat on his front step, "what are the odds of your Thane giving us leave to stay here?" Bilbo sighed and took a long drag on his pipe before he answered.

"I don't know," he finally said. Dwalin snorted that it had taken the hobbit _that_ long to come up with an answer. "It's unprecedented. No one has ever asked to start a foreign settlement in the Shire. And you do have to remember that you are sending _Thorin_ as your spokesman." There was true laughter this time.

"Laugh all you want," Bilbo replied pointing at them with the stem of his pipe while Frodo looked on with wide horrified blue eyes. "I don't see how you _ever_ planned to get through any negotiations. I love Thorin, I do but . . . he's not exactly _diplomatic_. Unless you dwarves go about diplomacy differently than hobbits. Why I could just see it now! Thorin in the middle of a negotiation suddenly shooting to his feet and grabbing some dignitary by the collar only to drag him outside and challenge him to a duel to settle the debate."

"Thorin's a mite better at diplomacy than you give him credit for," Balin said with a smirk that Bilbo didn't like in the least. "He was king for more than a hundred years and only led us into one major battle. He managed to keep us out of the rest. I think you're being a bit unfair, lad."

"If anyone talked you out of war, we both know that it was you," Bilbo scoffed. "Thorin's temper and pride would never have allowed him to engage in the flattery necessary to prevent war. I mean, he was even snippy with Lord Elrond who was doing nothing by being nice. If there was an argument you and I both know that Thorin would have taken it personally and it would have ended in violence."

"Like this will?" Thorin's voice asked. Bilbo turned only to find that his lover was done with his nap and was leaning against the door with a sardonic smirk on his face and humor in his voice. "I'm wounded. Is that truly what you think of me, Bilbo? Do you really think so little of my self control that you believe I would assault visiting dignitary over a debate?"

"If they were elvish," Bilbo replied with a smirk of his own. Thorin grimaced a moment before his smirk returned.

"I would never," he said simply with a resolute nod.

"You wouldn't even be _tempted_ to drag Thranduil from the chambers and trounce him?" Bilbo asked coyly. He knew the answer even before he asked it; not only would Thorin be tempted, he would do it and relish in it.

"No," Thorin said, his voice showing the strain he was under to keep a straight face at the mental image of dragging that _pompous_ elf out to the training yards and . . . he cut himself off before that thought could go any further and reveal his lie to Bilbo. It was unnecessary, Thorin could have indulged had he wanted to.

"You can try to lie to whomever you want, Thorin," Bilbo said with a laugh, standing to wrap himself around the dwarf, sighing contentedly when Thorin's arms wrapped around him as well. "But you can't lie to me," Bilbo continued, brushing his lips against the sensitive flesh of the dwarf's wrist. "I saw that twitch. I know that you would like nothing more."

"Can you blame me?" Thorin asked, his blue eyes pleading with Bilbo to say that he could not blame him for wanting to thrash the elf that had abandoned them so long ago and impeded their quest.

"No," Bilbo said honestly. "I might even enjoy watching that."

"You still surprise me," Thorin whispered as he leaned down to kiss the hobbit only to be stopped by a stuttered protest from the direction of the gate. Thorin pulled back—ignoring the frustrated groan from Bilbo—to see two hobbits, and adult male and a boy standing at the gate with shocked expressions.

"M-m-mr. Bilbo?" the elder of the two asked.

"Yes, Hamfast," Bilbo said, masking his irritation at having been interrupted well enough that only Thorin heard it, "what can I do for you?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt, sir," Hamfast said quickly. "I . . . I was just c-coming to tell you th-that I would take care of the garden now if you didn't mind clearing . . . never mind. I can come back later. I can see that you are quite busy _entertaining_."

"No, Hamfast," Bilbo sighed. "We need to go to the market anyway. This lot is trying to eat me out of house and home."

"We _did_ offer to pay," Bofur countered only to be shushed by Bilbo.

"We'll go do that and you can have the free run of the garden," Bilbo continued. "Come on you lot. As much as I know I'm going to regret this I can't in good conscience leave you here to traumatize young Samwise as you seem so intent on traumatizing Frodo."

"_We_ don't traumatize the lad," Dwalin muttered only to get a glare from the rest of the dwarves and Gandalf for interfering. If Thorin and Bilbo knew the effect they had on the lad they might tone it down and then Dwalin would have an unfair advantage. At their glares he sighed before climbing to his feet and heading for the gate, offering the two hobbits a small smile in an attempt to look less intimidating as Hamfast backed across the road and the smaller hobbit peaked out behind his father with wide brown eyes. He was followed by Bofur who just so happened to have a small toy on his person that he had made one night while he was bored and knelt to offer it to the hobbit. Samwise looked up at his father before creeping out a bit and moving closer to the strange dwarf.

"Go on," Bofur said gently. "It's a gift. Have it." Sam looked at his father once more and when Hamfast nodded reached out and cautiously took it.

"Thank you," the boy whispered, looking up at Bofur through his curly bangs. The dwarf smiled and ruffled his hair before setting off down the lane into town.

"That's cheating," Dwalin said once he was in earshot.

"No," Bofur disagreed. "I merely gave a toy to a child. Nothing wrong with that."

"Just remember that children don't count," Dwalin said with a smirk.

"Don't count for what?" Bilbo asked joining them. The two dwarves shared sheepish glances. Betting on Bilbo's people was one thing, Bilbo knowing about it was another. "Are neither of you going to tell me?"

"They're betting on which of them can make more hobbit friends in a year, Uncle," Frodo explained. Bilbo snorted and shook his head before asking, "Is this an open wager?" Bilbo saw no reason to stop them. They weren't hurting the hobbits and if they were trying to make friends perhaps that would help rein in their behavior.

"Aye," Dwalin said warily. "Just know that if you enter you can't attempt to sway the hobbits one way or the other."

"I don't need to sway them," Bilbo said with a shrug. "Bofur's going to win and ten gold pieces say so."

"I always knew you were a smart one!" Bofur crowed throwing an arm around Bilbo and looking at Dwalin smugly. "He sees genius when it's present."

"No," Bilbo corrected dancing out from under Bofur's arm and patting Dwalin's affectionately. "I just know that Dwalin here looks a bit intimidating until you get to know him. They won't have time to do that in a year or he would win. Underneath that gruff exterior is a fluffy bunny of a dwarf." Dwalin sputtered indignantly for a moment while the rest nearly collapsed with laughter.

"A . . . A _**BUNNY**__!"_Dwalin roared once he was able. "I assure you, Bilbo Baggins that I am no fluffy bunny. If you'd like I can prove it to you. We can turn right around and you can get your letter-opener and me an axe—I'll take mercy on you and only use the one—and you and I can see which of us is the fluffy bunny. If I recall, that _was_ once a title of yours. Was it not, Master Bunny?"

"Why I. . . I thought we agreed never to speak on that again," Bilbo finally managed. "Wasn't that the price for me freeing all of you from prison?"

"What are you going to do, Bilbo?" Dwalin said with a smirk. "It's not like you can _ask_ Thranduil to put me back in. He'd never do it. Relations are too good between him and Erebor for him to risk jailing one of the nobles."

"Did you forget about me?" Thorin asked with a laugh as he clapped Dwalin on the shoulder. "If you do attack my mate I _will_ talk to Dís about a momentary imprisonment for you. She'd might be more than willing to do it. I seem to remember an incident involving the two of you that had her begging me to jail you. Something about . . . what was it. Oh, I remember. You _accidently_ lit her braid on fire at a dinner. She wanted your head, you know. Claimed you were a bad influence on her lads. She blamed all of their pranking on you."

"Not you?" Dwalin asked elbowing his old friend harder than Bilbo thought was strictly necessary. But Thorin didn't seem to mind and only returned the elbow with one of his own as he released Dwalin.

"Never," Throin replied with a smirk. "She never caught _me_ teaching them bad behavior."

"Which is not to say you _didn't_," Bilbo said reading between the lines. "If we do get a child only the Valar will save you if you do the same. So help me, Thorin Oakenshield, if you create _another_ menace I . . ."

"You'll do nothing and we both know it," Thorin said cupping his face gently. "Don't threaten things you don't intend to do, âzyungâl."

"That's enough you two!" Balin said swatting them both, Thorin a bit more forcefully than Bilbo. "We're _shopping_. Last thing we need is the two of you getting us kicked out of the market for lewd behavior. Behave yourselves!" The irony of _Balin_ being the one to remind him of propriety caused Bilbo to disolve into laughter once more and he was wiping tears from his eyes as he threaded his arm through Thorin's and walked into Hobbiton.

The rest of them followed behind, shaking their heads with confused expressions on their faces as they wondered just what Bilbo had meant by talking about them getting a child.

**ooOO88OOoo**

**There we are all, more fluff. There may be a bit of time jumping in the next few chapters but we will hit all the high points, including a chat with Paladin that may just have information that will make Thorin a very happy dwarf . . . and a simlutaneously depressed dwarf. *sighs* Anyway. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter and I'd love to hear what you thought.**

**As always, thank you to those of you that reviewed!**

**Guest:**** Thank you :) And don't worry, there will be action coming up :) And I'm so glad that I could make you love them even more. Yeah . . . I think Gandalf may have overestimated there but we'll see. And you are more than welcome. I am here to offer support *hugs* Ha! I wondered if you would be freaked out by that! ANd I'm glad that it made it even more amusing. And happy late birthday! I tried to get this new chapter out in time for it but . . . they refused to participate :/ I hope it was a good one!**

**Guest:**** Hi :) And don't worry, I took no offence. It is a reasonable question*sighs* and actually a hard question to answer. I've sat down and tried to think about why ****I**** do it and, you're going to hate this, but I really don't know. As for slash in general, I don't slash things up just to slash things up and there are pairings that I cannot get behind (though I do respect those that can even if I can't. Fíli/Kíli is one of those for me). For me, and for this pairing, it's because it makes **_**sense**_** in a way. For these two, if you look at cannon, you can almost see having happened without messing up the universe. Thorin was royalty. His **_**one job**_**—other than ruling the kingdom—was to produce heirs. True, he had nephews, but even then, it would have still been his responsibility to do so. Now, you can argue that with the ratio of dwarf men to dwarf women being so skewed he just never found a female but *shrugs* I just don't buy that. The same argument cannot be made for Bilbo. He was a rich hobbit. The ratio there is roughly equal. If you look at the LOTR hobbits, Merry, Pippin and Sam all married young (in their 30's) and here you've got **_**Bilbo **_**in his fifties all alone. I suppose the argument **_**could**_** be made that he just didn't want to marry, but again, it was **_**expected**_** in that time (even in the 20's when Tolkien was writing) to marry as marriage secured your line. So Bilbo never married even after the quest (when he was richer than sin) and had to adopt an heir. It's a stretch, but you could almost see it happening. Also, for me, it's more about the interaction and the feels than the sex. I know that some people write for the shock value but that's not why I do it. That's why my sex scenes are completely separate from the main story. They are part of the story, but they don't **_**have**_** to be there to make it work. I suppose the same question could be asked of any non-cannon pairing really. And on any of them I would give you the same answer: we all have different reasons. For me, it was the chemistry that made this pairing, others (if they answer) will most likely tell you something different. However, I**_** will**_** say that part of the reason it is so prevalent in both this fandom and LOTR is probably the lack of cannon female character. If you want to write a romance in this world you almost have to write slash. Either that or create a OFC (dangerous territory in Tolkien fandoms as some readers assume that any female OFC is a Sue whether or not she is and you catch slack for not playing with what you were given) or messing up a cannon couple (again, very dangerous as the purists (who I'm not really sure why are reading fanfic anyway) will hang you for). Neither are particularly viable options so . . . slash it is. I hope this helped (and that I made any kind of sense at all)**

**Well, that's all for now folks! I hope you enjoyed it but would love to know what you though, even if you hated it!**

**Stickdonkeys**


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